Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League
by Argonaut57
Summary: An ancient menace stirs in a locked Vault. Five Keys are needed to unlock the Vault and save the world. To find the keys will take the skills of a new, 21st Century, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen!
1. Chapter 1

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter One: Special Assignments**

_The TARDIS: Everywhere, everywhen_

"Family is important." The Doctor murmured to himself, then shook his head. The fact was, he missed Donna. For some reason, of all the fellow-travellers he'd ever had, Donna seemed to fill the TARDIS more than any other. It wasn't just the fact that she was tall and loud, but she had so much energy and force. Still, the chance for a holiday in Malta with her mother and grandfather was something she didn't want to miss, so he'd sent her on her way, promising to come back for her in two weeks time.

"Anyway," he opined, "It gives me a bit of time to myself. Now, where shall I go? When shall I go?"

"To Earth," a pleasant voice replied, "You must go to Earth, Doctor."

The Doctor spun to face the speaker. The creature was humanoid in shape, but it's head was hairless, and instead of a mouth it had a mass of short tentacles. The down-slanted eyes regarded the Doctor with a familiar kindly patience. The being wore a black coverall with a Greek letter stencilled on the chest, and held a small white globe in one hand.

"Ood Sigma!" said the Doctor, "How did you get in here?"

The white globe flashed, the pleasant voice issuing from it: "That does not matter. The Ood Mind has sensed a discordance in the Song. That which you placed within the Vault is active again. Soon they will be strong enough to leave.

"Doctor, you must go to Earth. You must join the League. The TARDIS knows where and when."

Ood Sigma vanished. The Doctor stared for a moment, then shook his head, "Unfinished business!" Then he patted the control console, "Let's go, old girl!"

The TARDIS engines began to whirr.

_Vie de Marlie: May 15 2011_

The neon sign outside read _Devil May Cry_ and was adorned with the outline of a shapely, reclining woman. Inside, the place looked like a cross between a sleazy bar, a shop and a crazed aristocrat's trophy-room. There were a couple of rickety round tables with spindly chairs drawn around them. There was a well-used pool table off to one side and a classic 1950's style jukebox in a corner. The walls were decorated with a selection of photographs, antique weapons and skulls. The skulls belonged to no animals, or creatures, known to zoology, and most people would take them for clever fakes. They weren't.

The place was bizarre, and empty, but Dante didn't mind. He was leaning back in his old office chair, his feet on the desk, beer and pizza within reach, taking advantage of a rare quiet time in the demon-hunting business. As he flicked through a new _Guns & Ammo_, he heard the bell on the door jangle as it opened. He didn't look up, Trish was due back any minute. He wasn't even bothered when he didn't hear footsteps – Trish moved as quietly as he did. But the shadow that fell across his magazine was not hers.

Dante looked up. His visitor was a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing an expensive camel overcoat open to reveal a flawlessly-cut blue suit, spotless white shirt and an Old Etonian tie. The man looked to be in his seventies, but his rugged face was still handsome, the cold blue eyes still piercing and the iron-grey hair still thick, an obstinate lock falling across the forehead like a comma.

"Can I help you?" Dante asked, "If you need the bathroom, the toilet's in the back."

"You're Dante." It was not a question. "My name is Bond, James Bond."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Thought you'd hung it up a while back, pal." He said with a grin. "And even if you hadn't, we're hardly in the same line of work."

Bond smiled grimly. "Some things are important enough to come back for." He replied. "And lines sometimes cross. Do you know what 'Bad Wolf' means?"

Dante's feet came off the desk and he leaned forward, suddenly tense. "When and where?" he asked simply.

Bond produced a manila envelope and dropped it on the desk: "Instructions inside, along with an open-ended Business Class ticket to London Heathrow. See you there."

_Atlantis, San Francisco Bay, May 16 2011_

Dr Daniel Jackson had rarely been so happy. The original Atlantis Expedition had done their best with the Ancient database, but they had had to concentrate on what they needed to survive. But with Atlantis safely parked outside San Francisco Naval Base, Daniel had all the time in the world to study. He was poring over a laptop download when a familiar voice remarked:

"We could stand here all day, and he wouldn't notice."

Daniel twisted round, his face lighting with a grin: "Jack!" he exclaimed. "What brings you to Atlantis?"

Daniel got up and went over to shake his old friend's hand firmly. Jack hadn't changed much, but there was a tiredness around his eyes that had never been there when he was on active service.

"I thought they had you chained to a desk in Washington?" Daniel went on.

Jack shrugged. "They let me out from time to time. How about you? How's this place shaping up?"

Daniel looked around. "Pretty cool. Those ZPG's the Nox found for us have pretty much brought the whole city online again. We could take her out into space, but it works out better to have it here, and there's more than enough power to keep us cloaked.

"And this database is incredible! The information in here could solve a lot of problems. There's a device that..."

"Great, great!" Jack interrupted, sensing a technical vocabulary coming on. "But there are some problems this place won't solve, Daniel."

Daniel looked shrewdly at his old commander. "This isn't a social call, is it?"

Jack shook his head, then gestured to the tall black woman in an unfamiliar uniform who had been standing quietly by the door. "Daniel, this is Captain Erisa Magambo of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. She needs your help."

Captain Magambo shook Daniels' hand, then said gravely. "I'll be honest with you, Dr Jackson, this will not be a simple translation job. This will be as dangerous as anything you've faced as a member of SG-1."

"Whoa!" said Daniel. "I'm not a soldier, I'm an archaeologist. I just got settled in here, and you want me out in the field again?"

"The assignment is not off-world," Magambo told him, "But it does require your specific skillset, Dr Jackson. It's entirely voluntary, but all I can tell you before you decide is that the future of the world may depend upon it."

"Jack?" Daniel asked.

"I know, I know," Jack sighed. "But the Captain's right, Daniel. She came to me for help, and when she told me what she needed, I knew you were the guy for the job."

_Oh, crap!_ Daniel thought, but he said, "OK, I guess I'm in." If Jack thought this was important, then it had to be.

Magambo smiled. "Thank you, Dr Jackson. Now, we have a UNIT transport ready to leave for London as soon as you can pack!"

_NCIS Headquarters, Washington DC, May 16 2011_

Ziva was checking her emails, McGee was finishing up a case report and DiNozzo was trying to look as if he was working, when Gibbs strode into the room.

"MTAC. Now." he said.

Ducky, Abby and Director Vance were already there, as soon as the others came in, Vance ordered the technicians out.

"Hook us up, McGee." said Gibbs.

The image that appeared on the big screen was of an old-fashioned office, all oak panelling and framed photographs. Sitting behind a large desk was an elderly man in a dark suit. His face was sharp, predatory, and his eyes gleamed with a quick intelligence.

"Director Vance." he said, in the accents of the English gentry.

"Sir John." Vance nodded.

"Gunnery-Sergeant Gibbs, nice to see you again." the Englishman went on.

"Colonel Steed, it's been a while." Gibbs responded, with more respect in his tone than most of his team had ever heard.

"What can we do for you, Sir John?" Vance asked. "What's so important that you meed to pull all of my Major Case Team away from their phones?"

Steed looked grim. "I can't go into details, Leon. I really only needed to speak to Agent David, but as this team is such a tight-knit one, I thought it better to let all of them know."

"What do you want with me?" Ziva wanted to know.

"I need your help." Steed told her. "In fact the whole world needs your help, Miss David. I'm putting together a special unit, and we stand in need of your specific skillset. I'm asking for you to be seconded to us for a few days.

"The unit will be based here in London, and we need you here as soon as possible."

Ziva looked at Gibbs, who shrugged and said, "Up to you, Ziva."

Ziva turned to Steed. "With respect, Colonel, I'd need to know more. Just how important is this?"

Steed nodded. "Quite so." then instead of answering her, he turned to Gibbs. "Bad Wolf." he said quietly.

There was a sudden silence, in which the only sound was the hiss of Ducky's indrawn breath. McGee stiffened, more alert than Ziva had ever seen him. Tony and Abby looked as puzzled as Ziva felt. Gibbs and Vance exchanged a single glance, then Gibbs turned back to Ziva, his face grim, eyes intense. "It's as important as it can be, Ziva. More important than anything you've done before or will ever do again."

Ziva David had learned many lessons since she had first encountered NCIS. Perhaps the most important of them was to trust absolutely the judgement of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She turned to the screen. "I'm in." she said.

Steed sighed. "Thank you, Agent David. I'm emailing joining instructions to you. I'll see you soon. Gunnery Sergeant, Director, thank you for your time. I'll keep you both posted."

The main screen went dark. McGee, whose fingers had been flying across the keyboard in front of him, turned to Ziva. "There's a flight leaving Dulles for Heathrow in three hours, I've booked you a ticket, business class."

"You've got that long to pick up your orders and pack," Gibbs told her, "Good luck, Ziva."

"What," demanded Tony, "Does 'Bad Wolf' mean?"

"It means trouble." Gibbs stated. "And that's all you need to know, Tony."

"And as much as any sane man would want to know." Ducky added.

The team filed out. McGee was the last, and as he left MTAC, Abby pounced on him. "Timmy, you need to tell me about Bad Wolf! You might as well tell me, because you know I'm going to find out!"

McGee shook his head. "Not this time Abby," he said quietly, "I won't – _can't_ – tell you, and it's not on any system you could get into. Don't waste your time trying."

McGee's boyish face was grim and set, and his usually open, kind eyes were as icy as Gibbs'. For once in her life, Abby Schuto backed off.

_Stark Long Island, New York, May 16__th__ 2011_

Anthony Stark considered the holographic blueprint that hung in the air in front of him. _There, _he thought, _and there._ That would maximise output and minimise weight, the thing had to be portable for use in the field.

"Mr Stark?" It was the voice of his PA, the motherly Mrs Arbogast. "I have a video call from Sir John Steed in London, on the secure line."

"Put it though." Stark told her. The blueprint disappeared, to be replaced by the semi-transparent image of Steed.

"Mr Stark, thank you for taking my call."

"Any time, Sir John," Stark grinned, "You wouldn't call if it wasn't urgent or important. What do you need me to build for Her Majesty's Government?"

Steed gave a grim smile. "It's not so much your devices I need as yourself, Tony." he said, "I'm putting a team together for a very special job, and they'll need technical support – the best technical support they can get. That, my friend, means you!"

Stark raised an eyebrow. "Just how big is this job?"

"As big as it could possibly be." Steed told him. "The potential ramifications are beyond global. Also, the job may have certain other aspects to which you might be well _suited_, if you take my meaning."

"That sounds interesting," Stark nodded. "Anything else I should know?"

"It's related to the 2008 'planets in the sky' incident. Need I say more?"

Stark's face went grim. "I'll be in London tonight!" he stated.

Steen nodded. "Thank you. See you soon."

The call ended. "Mrs Arbogast," Stark said briskly, "Get my jet warmed up. I need to be in London as soon as possible. Call Stark Coventry and tell them I need a full Alpha-class support unit ready to roll at Heathrow by the morning – one with the War Machine mod installed.

"Then call the Mansion and tell them I'll be out of town for a while."

_Paris, France, May 16__th__ 2011_

Duncan was heading back to his houseboat with fresh croissants for breakfast – one of the privileges of living here which he exercised on a daily basis. This early in the morning, Paris was half-awake at best, with only the little _patisseries_ and _boulangeries_, and perhaps one or two of the smaller _brasseries_ open. The streets were almost empty, so it was a surprise to see someone waiting on the bank beside his boat.

There was no _feeling_ coming from the man, so he wasn't one of Duncan's kind. As he came closer, the Highlander noted that the stranger was elderly, though upright and fit-looking. He was impeccably dressed and faced Duncan squarely, waiting until he came within easy speaking distance before asking, in English:

"Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod? Known as the Highlander?"

"That depends on who's asking." Duncan replied. "Are you a Watcher?"

"No, my name's Bond. I work for Sir John Steed."

That name got Duncan's attention. He had worked both with and for John Steed in the past.

"You'd better come aboard." He said.

It was clear that Bond appreciated both the fresh coffee and the still-warm croissants. _Old school,_ Duncan thought, _Public school, cultured tastes. Officer class._

"So," he said, "what does Sir John want? He wouldn't have sent you all this way just to have breakfast and say hello. He has better ways of checking on people."

"He needs your help." Bond said. "He's putting together a team of special people, and he wants you to be part of it."

"What's the job?" Duncan asked.

Bond shrugged. "I can't say, but Sir John told me to ask if you remembered the pyramid in Yucatan?"

Duncan shuddered involuntarily, then nodded. "That was a bad business. Is this more of the same?"

"I was told to say that it could be worse, unless we act fast. Can you be in London tomorrow?"

Duncan got to his feet. "I can be in London on the next flight, if I have to. Where do you need me?"

Bond handed him an envelope: "Everything's in there. I have some things to do now, but I'll see you in London tomorrow."

_12 Grimmauld Place, London, 17__th__ May 2011_

After so many years of being a wizard, and living in their world, Harry Potter thought he might have lost the capacity to be surprised by now. However, as he stood at the kitchen door, watching the orderly chaos of family breakfast, he realised he hadn't. It wasn't simply the fact that the house no longer deserved its name, either. The gloomy old town-house left him by his godfather had indeed been transformed by the red-haired whirlwind that was Harry's wife, Ginny, into a cosy, welcoming home, but Harry knew Ginny of old, and had expected nothing less of her.

What surprised him was the seamless way in which Ginny and the old house-elf Kreacher worked together. Harry had inherited Kreacher with the house and at first they hadn't been friends. Later, their relationship had improved, and with it, Kreacher's behaviour. But Ginny's family, the Weasleys, had never had a house-elf, and Ginny had been brought up to do things for herself. Harry had tried to set Kreacher free, as much to avoid domestic fireworks as at the strident urgings of his friend and sister-in-law, Hermione Weasley. But the house-elf had been so upset, had cried so piteously at the very suggestion, that Harry had been unable to do it. He had set himself for some discord.

He needn't have worried. As he watched, the two worked together in a way that had begun the day Harry brought his new wife home from their honeymoon. Ginny supervised the three children, dispensing milk and fruit juice, cereals and toast, heading off squabbles, listening and responding to the endless chatter and generally keeping order. Meanwhile, Kreacher busied himself with coffee, tea, bacon, eggs, sausages and fried bread.

"Harry!" Ginny called, "Don't stand there with your beard in the door! Come and sit down! Kreacher, Master is here."

"Yes Mistress, all is ready!" Kreacher croaked, and scuttled to the table, somehow balancing two cooked breakfasts, a mug of tea and one of coffee. Harry and Ginny sat down and began to eat.

"Auntie Hermione says she doesn't know how Mum keeps her figure, eating like that," announced 8-year-old James.

"Hmph!" Ginny snorted. "Auntie Hermione could do to put on a few pounds herself! She's a married woman and a mother, not some Muggle supermodel!"

"Your mum," Harry told the boy, "Is a bottomless pit, like your Uncle Ron - and you!"

"And what about you, Mr Hollow-Legs?" retorted Ginny. Then, without missing a beat, she went on, "Now, you're all set for this, right? I've left you plenty of clean clothes and we're all stocked up, so you won't need to do any shopping."

"Yeah, fine," said Harry, "All I have to worry about is some mysterious classified mission and the chance of getting killed!"

Ginny snorted again. "Fat chance! The man who survived six attempts on his life by the late and unlamented Lord Voldemort isn't likely to get killed on some little Ministry job! I swear, I don't even know why you bothered taking out insurance.

"Harry," she went on in a softer tone, "You worry too much, you always have. It'll be some silly thing to do with the Muggle police, probably. Kingsley pulled you in because you're senior enough not to annoy whatever officer they've got dealing with it, and because you know enough about Muggles not to make a plonker of yourself dealing with them.

"Look, either some Muggle crook has got into a wizard place and got himself stuck or, more likely, Mundungus Fletcher or some of his mates have stolen something from an important Muggle. That'd be why they want you to work from here, probably, it's sort of between both places."

"OK, OK," Harry left it. "Are you and the kids all packed and everything?"

"Yeah, we just have to grab our bags and Floo over to the Burrow. I can owl my work to the Prophet from there as easily as from here." Ginny was Quidditch correspondent for the _Daily Prophet_, a logical step now she had retired from playing, and mostly worked from home. Harry thought it was great, especially since it meant free tickets to every major League game! Ginny thought it was typical of Harry not to realise – or even imagine - that the extra, prime seat, tickets came to them more because he was the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, than because of her job. She'd never said anything because if Harry found out, he'd insist on paying for the tickets. Ginny had been brought up in a poor family and new the value of a freebie! Anyway, she always felt that Harry refused, on principle, a lot of things he deserved, given his achievements.

"Right!" she said firmly, "You'd best get off love. I'll see you in a week, OK? Kreacher, make sure Master eats properly while I'm gone!"

"Kreacher promises, Mistress." The old elf looked sternly at Harry. "No beans on toast or take-away curries for Master!"

"I _like _beans on toast." Harry protested, without much hope. "Whose elf are you, anyway?"

Kreacher kept an admirably straight face as he replied. "Kreacher belongs to Master, of course. But he must obey Mistress because she has a very heavy frying-pan!"

That made everyone laugh. Then Harry hugged and kissed his children, kissed his wife goodbye more thoroughly than usual, said "Love to Mum and Dad!", and Flooed himself off to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Two: Ancient History, Modern Peril**

_Hogwarts School, Hogsmeade, May 18__th__ -19__th__ 2011_

Minerva McGonagall was not a person who remembered, or concerned herself, with dreams. She had far too many concerns in waking life as the Headmistress of Britain's only wizarding school. But this dream was different, she knew immediately. For one thing, the forest she stood in, and the great, grim door in the hillside she was facing, were not the familiar, or even semi-familiar scenes of a normal dream. For another, the being that stood watching her was like nothing she had ever seen in waking life. The leathery skin, hairless head, tentacled mouth and downslanted eyes were not those of any magical creature, and the white globe it held in one hand was clearly the product of some kind of technology.

An alien, then. Like everyone else on Earth, Minerva now knew that there was life on other worlds, but she had never met a creature of extra-terrestrial origin. Now she was sure this was no ordinary dream. The white globe flashed.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall." It was not a question. Minerva inclined her head, and the being spoke again. "I am Ood Sigma, and I apologise for interrupting your rest, but it was necessary. Your former pupil, Harry Potter, is engaged in a matter of grave importance and danger. He will require your assistance in due course, but one thing he will need at once. You must send him the Old Map. Without it he cannot begin."

Minerva shrugged. "I am, of course, always willing to assist Mr Potter in any and all ways that I can. But I do not know you, Ood Sigma, and I need to know that I'm doing the right thing."

Ood Sigma nodded. "You are wise, Professor. I can say only that this matter also concerns the Doctor."

Minerva's eyes flashed, and a hint of a smile appeared round her stern mouth. "In that case, I will do as you ask."

Ood Sigma murmured, "Thank you." And suddenly Minerva was awake.

_The Ministry of Magic, London, May 19__th__ 2011_

Harry had been instructed by Kingsley to come to work in Muggle clothing that day, so he collected more than his usual share of stares as he made his way through the crowded corridors. He always got a few, even after all these years, his scar still marked him out as the Boy Who Lived, but the addition of jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket made him stand out even more.

He stopped by his office to have a word with his deputy and brother-in-law, Ron Weasley, who assured him (for the fiftieth time since the previous morning) that he had everything in hand. As he left, Harry heard Ron mutter something about graveyards and indispensable men. He was grinning as he made his way to the Minister's office.

There had been four Ministers of Magic that Harry had known, and according to the chatty receptionist, Millicent Mapleleaf, all had kept their offices very differently. Cornelius Fudge had stuffed his office with every symbol and emblem of authority he could. During Rufus Scrimgeour's brief tenure, the office had resembled a Command Centre, with map tables and staff constantly coming and going. Pius Thicknesse hardly counted – he had merely sat in the room awaiting orders from Voldemort.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's office was quite clearly a workspace, however. The walls were empty except for a team portrait of the Tutshill Torpedoes, a photograph of Kingsley's graduation class, and another one, taken in the Great Hall of Hogwarts the day after the final battle against Voldemort. Harry didn't like looking at that one – his younger self looked exhausted and sad, and Ginny stood at his side with her arm around him as if she was supporting him. There were innumerable filing cabinets against the walls, however, and Kingsley's large desk was neatly arranged with In, Out and Pending trays, his diary, quills and ink. As Harry entered, the diary announced: "Thursday May 19th, 2011. Nine-fifteen. Appointment with Harry Potter and Commander Bond re Bad Wolf."

Which meant, Harry assumed, that the tall, elderly, well-dressed Muggle who had risen along with Kingsley as Harry entered must be Commander Bond.

Kingsley gestured Harry to a seat and spoke in his slow, deep, voice: "Thanks for coming Harry. This is Commander Bond, Commander, this is Harry Potter, Head of the Auror Department."

The two men shook hands. Bond was no taller than Harry, but more muscular than wiry. His handshake had the dry feel of old skin, but was as firm and powerful as the younger man's. Kingsley went on:

"Commander Bond will be taking you on to your main briefing in a while, Harry, but I have a few things to say first.

"Now, as I told you yesterday, this operation is entirely voluntary. I gave you first refusal because you're the best we have and this job is very important. By important I mean the implications are global, not just for Muggles, but for every inhabitant of the Earth, including the magical ones.

"Look, Harry, there are people who'd say you've done your part, that you did as much as anyone should be asked to do fourteen years ago – maybe more. Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, would have blamed you if you'd just packed it in then and there. Your parents and Sirius left you well enough off not to need the salary I pay you, after all.

"But when I asked you to become an Auror, you said yes straight away, and you've revolutionised the way our world is policed. You're a committed man, Harry, and the people Commander Bond represents need that kind of commitment.

"Having said that, if you want to pull out – and I won't lie to you, the job is dangerous – then say so now and nobody will blame you. You've got Ginny and the kiddies to think of, after all. So, what's it to be?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not like that, Kingsley. I did what I did all those years ago because I had to, because Voldemort was obsessed with the Prophecy. It wasn't me that made me his nemesis, it was him. It could just as easily have been Neville who got this," he tapped his scar, "I could have just been a foot-soldier, doing my bit for the world I belong to.

"But this, now. Being an Auror, protecting people, making things right, this is something I _chose_ to do, all on my own. My decision to become an Auror, my decision to join this mission, and for the same reasons."

"I thought you'd say something like that!" Kingsley gave a grim smile, then turned to Bond. "Commander, you're getting my best man. Make good use of him, and make sure he comes back in one piece!"

"That, Minister, is up to Mr Potter." Bond replied. "He and the team he'll be working with."

"Fair enough!" Kingsley stood, and extended his hand to Harry. "Good luck, my friend, and I'll see you in a few days."

_The British Museum, London, May 19__th__ 2011_

Harry, no expert on Muggle cars, nonetheless recognised the vehicle Bond led him to. His Uncle Vernon had held a lifelong dream of owning an Aston Martin DB5. The car smelt of leather, tobacco smoke and Bond's expensive cologne. Harry felt slightly dowdy in his casual clothing, but Bond didn't seem bothered. The Commander was a man of few words, speaking only to offer Harry a cigarette that the younger man declined.

Somewhat surprisingly to Harry, they did not go to some obscure Whitehall office, or glass and steel tower in Canary Wharf, but to the British Museum. Bond took them around the back, to a delivery yard, one of those places people know must exist, but never think about. He parked the car in a quiet corner, then led Harry to a small door marked 'Private', which he unlocked by pressing a sequence of numbered keys. The door let onto a spiral staircase which led downwards into what Harry felt were the bowels of the earth. At the bottom was another door, this one large, ancient and iron-bound, which Bond unlocked with a big, old-fashioned key.

Harry found himself in what seemed to be a small waiting room. There was a closed door at the far end, a low table and a number of comfortable-looking chairs. Bond turned to Harry:

"This is where I leave you, Mr Potter. Please take a seat, you'll be collected in a minute. I'll see you again soon."

The Commander left, locking the iron-bound door behind him. Harry shrugged – locked doors were no problem for a wizard – and took a seat as suggested. _Everything comes to he who waits_, he thought. But he didn't have to wait long. The inner door opened, and a woman entered. She was tall and elegant, dressed in a well-cut trouser suit, and her age was impossible to tell. Her beautiful, strong, face was unlined, but her long dark hair was streaked with grey. As Harry stood, she came towards him, smiling and extending a well-manicured hand.

"Harry, isn't it? I'm Emma Peel, one of Sir John's assistants, I'm to take you to the conference room, if you'll follow me?"

"Sir John?" asked Harry as they went through the door.

"Sir John Steed," Emma told him. "The Head of MI7, and the Director of this operation. Of course, you won't have been told, Mr Shacklebolt is a very discreet man."

"I've never heard of MI7, either." Harry pointed out. "Just MI5 and MI6!"

"Hmm, they're all nicknames, anyway," said Emma with a chuckle. "MI5 is the Security Service and MI6 is the Intelligence Service. MI7 is officially the Special Actions Group. That's all I can tell you for now, Harry, OK?"

"Suits me." Harry allowed.

The room they were walking through was vast, with a high, vaulted roof. It reminded Harry of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts – the one where every lost or hidden item in a thousand years of history ended up. There were stacks, shelves and piles of items, forming a kind of maze that Emma threaded without hesitation. Harry could see more books than even Hermione could ever read. He saw stuffed unicorns and hippogriffs, and other even rarer beasts, a Yeti and a Sasquatch side-by-side, a fifteen-foot tall green-skinned humanoid with four arms, and a grey-skinned being with huge dark eyes. There was a rack of weapons, including a long sword with green gems in the hilt and a huge, black broadsword.

"What is this, Area 51 or something?" Harry asked.

Emma snorted. "Area 51? That's a seaside souvenir shop compared to this! We have stuff here that predates Numenor. This collection was started by monks in the Dark Ages, and it's never been properly catalogued. It's all the bits and pieces that we can't put on display because people don't want to know they're real."

"Ah! Going to keep me here, then?" Harry teased.

"Well, it would make the collection more interesting!" Emma replied. "Here we are!"

The door was unremarkable, and led into a rather gracious, Georgian-style room which obviously served as an office. There were three desks, one empty, another occupied by a woman about Emma's age, just as elegant, but blonde, the third by a rather younger woman with curly hair and a cheery smile.

"Harry, this is Mrs Gale," the blonde woman, "and Miss King," explained Emma. "They'll be helping me and the Commander to look after you and your colleagues for the next few days."

Emma opened one half of a double door at the other end of the office. "Conference room through here. There's coffee and cakes, help yourself and find a seat. Sir John will be along in a minute or two."

Harry went through, there were several people already in the room, all of whom looked at him. Nobody spoke, so Harry made his way to the table where the coffee and cakes were. As he helped himself to coffee and a muffin, he took stock.

There was a knot of three men near the coffee table, all fairly tall. One had a sharp-featured face, was wearing a blue suit under a long brown coat, with plimsolls on his feet. He was talking volubly at, rather than to, the other men. One of them was dark-haired, with a neat moustache, wearing an expensive suit and an expression of wry patience. The other was a muscular chap with short fair hair, wearing what looked like battledress and a mildly bewildered look on his face.

There were two other men in the room, both sitting down. One was dark and slender, handsome in a rugged way, and watched Harry with a keen, appraising glance. The other lounged in his chair, apparently bored, he had white-blond hair, chiselled features and pale, cold eyes. The last person was a woman, standing alone in a corner. She was medium height, with an athletic build, smartly but unremarkably dressed, and reasonably attractive; her most remarkable features were a wealth of dark hair and her intense eyes – eyes that missed nothing, Harry judged.

He was making his way towards a seat when the woman came over to him and said without preamble:

"Agent Ziva David, NCIS." Her accent was odd – Mid-East, Harry judged, but with overtones of American.

Harry put his drink and snack down on the table and took the proffered hand: "Harry Potter, Auror Department. What's NCIS?"

"Naval Criminal Investigation Service, I'm based out of Washington DC. What is an Auror Department? Some section of Scotland Yard I never heard of?"

"No, but I am a policeman, of sorts."

"That I already knew." Ziva smiled at Harry's raised eyebrow. "I'm trained to notice things. When a soldier walks into a room, he checks for exits, cover, angles of fire and so on. A police officer looks at the people."

Harry laughed, and was about to ask what Ziva knew about their job, when a shadow fell across them. The man with the white hair had come over. He was very tall, broad-shouldered and powerful. Close to, he looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He spoke directly to Harry.

"Did I hear you right? You're Harry Potter?" He asked.

"That's right," Harry admitted, dreading what was coming.

The man shook his head in near-disbelief. "I saw your scar," he said, "and wondered, because there could hardly be two people with a scar like that. Then you said your name. You're _the_ Harry Potter, right?"

"Yes," Harry allowed wearily, "I'm Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, etcetera and so forth. I don't do endorsements or autographs, OK?"

The man grinned. "Figured you'd react like that. One reason why I stay underground!" He put out a large, gauntleted hand. "Dante Sparda, Demon Hunter. Man, I gotta say, that Gringotts job was a piece of work! I laughed for a week when I heard about it! Strolled right in, raided one of the best protected vaults in the whole damn place, then busted out on the goblin's own pet dragon! That's style, dude!"

Harry laughed as he took the hand. He'd never considered that particular incident in quite that way before, and it cast a whole new light on the event. It also helped that Dante's admiration was that of an equal for an equal, not the hero-worship that so embarrassed him. "They even let me keep my account, you know!" he replied, and Dante laughed.

Harry looked the man over. The Auror Department had a large file on Dante Sparda, but no physical description – the few wizards who had met the man were never in a condition to speak about it afterwards. Dark wizards would occasionally take up demon-summoning as a means to their ends, and there had been numerous occasions when this underground freelancer had arrived before the wizarding authorities, and left before them, leaving carnage in his wake. The general opinion was to let well enough alone.

Then Harry realised that Ziva was looking at them both as if they were insane.

"Excuse me," she said, "But is this some kind of a crank-up? Demons don't exist, after all!"

"I think you mean wind-up," Harry told her, "And yes, demons do exist. So do wizards. I know, because I am one!"

"I'd have figured," Dante remarked, "That some of the stuff that's happened since the turn of the century would've shown you that the universe is bigger and weirder than we used to think!"

Ziva made a gesture. "Yes, I know, the meta-humans, the mutants and the aliens, I understand all that. But wizards and demons – those are from children's stories!"

There was no chance to discuss the matter further, as a new voice suddenly called: "Lady and gentlemen, will you take your seats, please? We need to begin."

Everyone moved to the conference table. The seat at the head had now been taken by a silver-haired man with a hawklike face, who waited patiently while the elegant Mrs Gale handed folders around to everyone. When everyone was settled, he spoke again.

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for coming. Secondly, I must tell you that anything heard, seen or experienced here, and during the course of the mission, must be classified as ultra top secret, not to be spoken of to anyone outside this group and certain other individuals. Thirdly, I would like to introduce myself, I am Sir John Steed, current Director of the Special Actions Group.

"Now, as to the reasons we are here. Five days ago, I received a...message...from an individual who identified himself as Ood Sigma, a being clearly of extra-terrestrial origin. Acting on that message, I requested that a SHIELD surveillance satellite be redirected over a certain region in the Central European state of Latveria. The results of that sweep are shown in the front of your files."

There was much rustling of paper. Harry could not make head nor tail of the graphs and printouts. The one photograph showed a sweep of wooded hills with, in the centre, a whitish blob which conveyed nothing to him. He looked around the table; Dante and the tall dark man were clearly as puzzled as he, Ziva and the fair-haired man were both frowning. It was the man with the moustache who spoke.

"That's an energy signature of some kind. But these readings make no sense – this isn't human technology, Sir John!"

"Of course it isn't!" snapped the sharp-faced man, "That's a Dalek energy signature! Ood Sigma was right!"

Suddenly, Harry was frightened. His mind flashed back to three years before, when the Earth had been suddenly wrenched out of its orbit and invaded by those lethal, robotic creatures. The Daleks had been no more able to find their way into the wizarding world than had the Cybermen some years before, but that didn't mean there hadn't been losses. Many wizards had muggle families they wanted to protect. Ron and Hermione had gone to fetch Hermione's parents, and had been found by a Dalek; for all Hermione's skill and Ron's raw power, they'd been hard put to destroy the thing and escape. Seamus Finnegan had not been so lucky, and was dead, as was Harry's old Charms teacher, Filius Flitwick. There had been other wizard deaths, the most heroic and ironic of which had been that of Lucius Malfoy, who had died defending a family of muggles who had bought a country home close to Malfoy Manor. Harry often wondered if the former Death Eater had been trying to make amends for his past.

He was brought back to the present by Steed's voice: "Doctor, you've already told me that this refers to something that happened a long time ago. Perhaps you could explain?"

The man called the Doctor seemed to collect his thoughts for a moment, then began to talk. As he did so, his eyes went around the table, seeming to measure each of them. Harry was shocked by the power of the man's gaze. The Doctor, though quite tall, was not physically impressive, but he had a kind of authority that Harry had only seen before in Albus Dumbledore. The authority of someone who knows, without doubt, what he is talking about.

"There was a war," the Doctor told them, "A long, terrible war between the Daleks and my people, the TimeLords. Never mind how it started, or why. It was a war that stretched across all of time and space. In the end, I had no choice. I Time-Locked the entire war, the Daleks, my own people, locked away, outside the Universe." The Doctor paused for a moment, the went on. "But, not all of them. Not all of the TimeLords, not all the Daleks.

"There was a battle, and a Dalek saucer was hit just as it went into Temporal Shift. I thought it had been destroyed, but instead it fell through time and space to arrive on Earth, around twelve hundred years ago. It crash-landed, buried itself. It was damaged, it took nearly two hundred years for the crew to repair it enough to start to dig their way out. But the TARDIS brought me here to Earth before they could.

"You have to understand, the saucer had a crew of fifteen, fifteen Daleks. That would be enough to cause Earth serious trouble even now. Back then, they would have overrun the planet in days, at least the muggle – non-magical - part of it. But I knew there were wizards, and I knew they were the only chance. So I found four wizards, the four most powerful ones I could..."

"The Founders!" Harry interrupted, and the Doctor looked at him, then grinned dazzlingly.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you? I've got a friend who talks about you all the time! Yes, you're right, it was the Four Founders of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor was a fighter, a warrior-mage, one of the bravest men I ever knew, but hot-tempered. Rowena Ravenclaw was a brilliant woman – for a human – but she had no sense of humour. Helga Hufflepuff was a wonderful Healer and the kindest woman – I was very fond of Helga. Then there was Salazar Slytherin. Salazar was a bit of an odd bod. He was the fiercest of all of them when it came to defending the world, but he really disliked muggles, and he practised some very Dark magic.

"Anyway, we got to the place where the Daleks were, and three of them were already out. There was a fight. Godric and Salazar managed to destroy the Daleks – most incredible thing I'd ever seen – while Rowena and Helga and I created a Vault, a place that nobody could get into. Then the wizards sent the rest of the Daleks to sleep, as long a sleep as they could manage, and we sealed the Vault.

"We sealed it with five Keys. This," He held up a small device. "Is one of them, my sonic screwdriver. The others had one Key each, which they kept. Without all five Keys, no-one can get into the Vault."

"So nothing can get out?" Ziva hazarded, but the Doctor shook his head.

"These are Daleks. It took them a thousand years, but they shook off that magic sleep. They're repairing their saucer. They'll break out. There are twelve of them, each of them a genius, more intelligent than anyone else on this planet – except me, of course. They'll get out of the Vault if they have to learn magic to do it!"

"OK, OK," said Dante, "I knew it was Daleks, as soon as that Bond character mentioned Bad Wolf. But why all this? Why not just let SHIELD or UNIT or even Torchwood handle it?"

"What do you know of Latveria, Mr Sparda?" asked Steed.

Dante shrugged: "Little country at the butt-end of Europe. Never been there."

"It's more complicated than that," Ziva told him. "Latveria is perhaps the last remaining absolute monarchy in Europe. It's been ruled by the House of von Doom since the Third Century. The current ruler is Viktor IX, known to the world as Dr Doom. He's made a nuisance of himself on several occasions, and he's no friend to SHIELD or UNIT."

"Precisely so," Steed confirmed. "And at the moment, matters are even more difficult. Like many countries in that region of Europe, part of Latveria's population is culturally or ancestrally Muslim. But since the beginning of this century, the von Dooms have outlawed the practice of any religion within Latveria. They don't want their subjects owing allegiance to anyone but them.

"That wasn't an issue until after 9/11, when external elements decided it was time to radicalise Latverian Muslims. They failed, disastrously, every last one of their emissaries was reported to the Latverian authorities by the people they were trying to convert; they were arrested, tried and executed to a man. Now, the radical movements have tagged Latveria as an atheist state, and are trying to wage a terrorist campaign.

"Add to this that there are no official diplomatic relations between the US and Latveria, thus making any SHIELD intervention tantamount to invasion, and the fact that Latveria is not signatory to the UNIT Treaty, and we are out of official options. Given that the Avengers, as reconstituted after the 2008 Dalek incident, are an arm of UNIT, they are also unable to intervene."

"What about Torchwood?" asked the fair-haired man. "This sort of thing is their department, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid, Dr Jackson, that Torchwood is no longer operational." Steed revealed. "Torchwood One was destroyed in the Battle of Canary Wharf in 2006. Torchwood Three, the Hub in Cardiff, was destroyed by unauthorised Government action during the 2009 456 Incident. Torchwood Two had closed down some time before that."

"There's still Torchwood Four." Harry pointed out.

Steed looked surprised. "Torchwood Four disappeared during the Second World War." he said.

"Disappeared from the muggle world." Harry told him. "It operates from an office next door to Flourish and Botts in Diagon Alley. A friend of mine, Luna Lovegood, works there." He shrugged. "It seems that not every alien artefact is technology – some of them are alien magic. Torchwood Four takes care of them, but they're not an active operations unit, more research and safe storage. If they think there's going to be trouble with anything, they call the Aurors in."

"Thank you for that, Mr Potter." Steed took a breath. "In any event, we were left with a single option. An option which has been used on several such occasions since the 17th Century. That is to summon together a group of talented people to form a team, a League. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

"So we have Agent Ziva David, seconded from the American Naval Criminal Investigation Service. Agent David is a former Mossad operative with extensive training and experience in intelligence-gathering, surveillance, infiltration, sabotage and both armed and unarmed combat.

"Mr Harry Potter, Head of the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic. An exceptionally talented wizard, specialising in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Mr Potter is famous among wizards as the man who defeated the wizard terrorist Tom Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort. Since then, he has made a career as an Auror, or wizard policeman. His most notable achievement has been the introduction of muggle investigative and forensic techniques to the business of hunting Dark wizards.

"Dante Sparda is a freelance demon-hunter, operating from his home in Vie de Marlie. He has put a stop to several attempted invasions of this world from the demon dimensions. In 2008, he and his allies conducted a remarkably successful campaign of armed resistance against Dalek forces in Vie de Marlie. His value to the League lies in his invulnerability to many types of magic, and the fact that his weapons have proved effective against Daleks in close combat.

"Dr Daniel Jackson is a civilian employee attached to the USAF StarGate Command project. He has taken active and leading parts in the campaigns against the Gou'a'ould, the Replicators, Anubis and the Ori. He is an archaeologist and an expert in ancient languages, including those of non-terrestrial origin.

"Duncan MacLeod," Steed indicated the tall, dark-haired man who had so far not spoken, "Of the clan MacLeod, purports to be an antique dealer and teacher of martial arts. In actual fact, he is an Immortal, a rare human born with the ability to survive almost any injury, who neither ages nor dies. Mr MacLeod has had a 300 year career as a mercenary, bodyguard, soldier and explorer. In the early 19th Century, he served as a mercenary under Heinrich von Doom, then Crown Prince of Latveria, helping that state resist annexation by Tsarist Russia. He is here because he fought across the region where the Vault is located. He knows the ground and can speak the Latverian dialect fluently.

"Mr Antony Stark," the man with the moustache, "Is, of course, universally known – to muggles, anyway, Mr Potter – as the CEO of Stark Industries, the electronics and engineering corporation that provides so much of our day-to-day domestic technology and defence needs. He is also the Chair of the Stark Foundation, which supplies funding for so much research and charitable work, allowing the world's poor to benefit from the latest technology. Mr Stark is the holder of patents too numerous to mention, a brilliant engineer, and will serve as the technical and logistic support for the League.

"Finally, the Doctor. Not a native of Earth, but as he indicated, perhaps the last living TimeLord. For several millennia, he has travelled through space and time, becoming involved in all kinds of events, both on Earth and elsewhere. He is not only the holder of the Fifth Key, but also arguably the only being in the Universe that the Daleks fear. They call him _Ka Faraq Gatri,_ the Bringer of Darkness.

"So, the League is set. Your mission is to locate and obtain the remaining four Keys, to enter the Vault, and to stop the Daleks emerging in any way possible!

"For now, Mr Potter has offered the use of his home in London as a secure base of operations. I suggest you go there and begin to make plans. Mrs Gale, Mrs Peel, Miss King and Commander Bond will all be ready and able to assist in any way that can smooth your path.

"Good luck, and Godspeed!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Three: The Old Map**

_Grimmauld Place, London, May 19__th__, 2011_

Harry had been wondering how to get the League to Grimmauld Place. It wouldn't do for the local muggles to spot such an oddly-assorted group heading to an invisible house in broad daylight. The museum was not, of course, connected to the Floo network, and anyway, Harry still remembered his first attempt at Flooing too vividly to risk letting neophytes use the technique! He was about to ask for something he could convert into a portkey when the Doctor said: "Are you still living at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry? Good, I'll give us all a lift!" And promptly led everyone back into the room of relics, where Harry was surprised to find a blue Police box standing next to what appeared to be a rather old Vanishing Cabinet.

"Good grief!" remarked Duncan, "I've not seen one of those in years!"

"You've never seen one of _these_!" the Doctor told him, as he inserted a key into the door. "Come along in, everyone!"

"We're not all going to fit in...here?" Harry was speechless as he stared around the great, bright interior.

Dante wasn't, and remarked "Holy shit!" in an awed voice.

"Go on," urged the Doctor, "One of you say it!"

"Dimensionally transcendental." Daniel said, looking around him curiously. "Impressive. Is this contained in the blue box thing, or is the box just the way it manifests in our dimension?"

"Bit of both," the Doctor said, "But people usually just say 'it's bigger on the inside'."

"Yeah," Daniel grinned. "Well, I've been around a little!"

Tony was walking around the hexagonal control desk in the middle of the room.

"Meant to have a crew of six-seven people?" he asked. "I've seen the UNIT files on this craft – they call it a TARDIS, don't they? Control system's a bit...eccentric. I'd have expected something a bit more high-tech, Doctor."

"And if you were me, it would be." the Doctor told him. "The TARDIS changes the control room whenever I..._change_. Redoes it to suit whoever I am at the time." He paused, then said reflectively. "I think she saves the old ones somewhere else in here – she's a sentimental old girl, and we've been together a long time."

"If nobody minds," Ziva said plaintively, "Can we get to wherever we're going? This...place...is giving me the jeebie-heebies!"

"Heebie-jeebies!" everyone corrected her, which at least made her laugh. The Doctor fussed with the controls for a moment, and then the room filled with an odd, whirring, whooshing, roaring sound. Inside a transparent column that rose from the centre of the control desk, something began to rise and fall like a piston. This lasted for less than a minute, Harry judged, then stopped and the Doctor said, "Here we are!"

The door opened again, and the League trooped out into the ballroom at Grimmauld Place.

"Whoa!" said Duncan, looking around, "You do all right for yourself, Harry!"

"How do you manage all this on a police officer's salary?" Ziva wanted to know. "I'm a Federal agent and all I can manage is a one-bed apartment in a decent part of town."

"Aurors aren't that badly paid," Harry pointed out. "But my parents left me well off, and then I inherited this place and even more money from my godfather. This house is the ancestral home of the Black family, but the only living direct descendants of the Blacks are Draco Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa, who was a Black before she married. They have Malfoy Manor, which is twice the size of this place, and what with one thing and another, Sirius' – my godfather's – will was never challenged.

"You might think this place is big, but with three kids rampaging around, it can feel pretty full!"

"You have a family?" Daniel was looking around, as if expecting to see youngsters suddenly appear.

"Two boys and a girl." Harry told him. "Ginny – my better half – has taken them off to visit her parents until we're done here. Hello, Kreacher!"

The old house-elf had slipped quietly into the room and now Harry was curious to see the other's reactions to him. The Doctor, Daniel and Dante barely reacted at all – they had clearly seen much odder things. Stark was curious, as was Duncan. Ziva stared for a moment, then seemed to realise she was being rude and resorted to flicking glances out of the corner of her eye.

Kreacher bowed. "Master was longer than Kreacher expected." he croaked. "Kreacher has set out the large dining room for Master and his colleagues to work in. Coffee, tea and sandwiches will be ready in a moment. Perhaps the lady would like to freshen herself? Kreacher can guide her to the appointments."

"Th-that would be nice." Ziva took a deep breath, then said in a more normal tone. "Thank you, Mr Kreacher."

"Just Kreacher." he admonished her. "This way.

"Oh, Kreacher almost forgot. Master received an Owl after he left. It is in the dining room."

"Some sort of magically-created servant?" Daniel asked Harry as he led them to the big dining room. "A golem or homunculus?"

Harry shook his head. "Wizards didn't create house-elves." he said. "I inherited Kreacher with the house."

"He's a slave?" There was a sharpness in Daniel's tone. Harry groaned.

"Don't go there!" He pleaded. "I get enough of that from Hermione!"

"Ah!" the Doctor interrupted. "He's one of those who doesn't _want _to be freed!" He turned to Daniel. "House-elves gave themselves in service to wizards centuries ago. They have powerful magic which made them scared they'd hurt or damage themselves or others. Things have changed a bit nowadays, I suppose, but a lot of house-elves simply would not be happy if you freed them."

"Hermione – my sister-in-law – works for the Ministry." Harry added. "She's put a lot of new laws in place about how house-elves have to be treated. She wanted to insist they should all be freed, but Ron and Ginny and I, and Kreacher, persuaded her to tone it down. Now a house-elf has to be freed if they ask to be, but they can't be freed against their will. Some wizards used to punish their house-elves by freeing them, you see." Harry could see poor, miserable, Winky in his mind's eye. "It can destroy them."

By this time, they had arrived at the big dining room. Kreacher had removed the large, silver centrepiece and, Harry was relieved to see, had set out an A4 pad, pens and pencils at each place. He'd been half-expecting parchment and quills! There were also carafes of water and glasses. As Harry moved toward the head of the table – out of habit, more than anything – the figure in the large portrait above and behind his chair spoke up.

"So these are the new colleagues Kreacher was talking about." remarked Sirius Black. "What are you up to now, Harry?"

"Not a lot," Harry told him. "Just saving the world."

"What, again?" Sirius asked with a grin. In the portrait, he wasn't as Harry remembered the living man – frustrated, haggard and haunted from his years in Azkaban. He was the Sirius Harry's parents had known, the Sirius Harry had seen when he used the Resurrection Stone; young, carelessly handsome, with a devil-may-care glint in his eyes. The portrait had been waiting there when Harry returned to the house after Voldemort's defeat, and had been a major factor in his deciding to keep the place. Harry was about to reply when Duncan came up beside him.

"Sirius?" He asked, astonished. "Sirius Black? Do you know me?"

"Hello, Highlander." Sirius replied easily. "Been a long time since Guatemala. You haven't changed, but then you wouldn't, would you?"

"You seem to have got younger." Duncan commented. "Or did you bribe the artist?"

"You two know each other?" Harry was taken aback. "Sirius, you never said anything about..."

Sirius shook his head. "This was around '93-'94, Harry, after you and Hermione broke me out of Hogwarts. When I got back, if you remember, we were a bit busy!"

"I met Sirius in Guatemala," Duncan explained, "I came across a nest of Mayan Vampires – nasty brutes – and Sirius turned up out of nowhere on a bloody great hippogriff and helped me clear them out."

"You were supposed," Harry chided his godfather, "To be in hiding, Sirius."

"Buckbeak's fault," Sirius replied airily. "Hippogriffs have a thing about Vampires. They get so much as a sniff of one, and that's it! They hunt them down and rip them apart!"

"That's true," Duncan put in, "Never seen anything like it! But if what you told me about wizard portraits is true, Sirius, you must be dead!"

"As the proverbial doornail." Sirius allowed. "Killed by a cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, so at least it was all in the family!"

"I see." Duncans' face was set. "And where do I find this Bellatrix?"

"In Hell." Harry told him. "She made the mistake of crossing my mother-in-law! Long story, we'll talk about it later, if we get the chance."

At that point, Ziva and Kreacher entered the room, chatting like old friends. Behind Kreacher floated several trays, loaded with drinks, food and crockery, which he levitated over to the sideboard.

"Kreacher has made coffee and tea," the house-elf announced, "and sandwiches. There is ham, beef, smoked salmon, cucumber and egg and cress. There is also a selection of cakes. If anything else is needed, Kreacher will be within call. Dinner is served at seven o'clock in the family dining room upstairs."

"Help yourselves, everyone," Harry said, "then let's get started!"

"Cucumber sandwiches!" said the Doctor gleefully. "Last time I had these I was having tea with Agatha Christie, you know!"

"Why," asked Tony plaintively, "Do you Brits only ever put one thing in a sandwich?"

"Och," said Duncan, whose brogue had been steadily creeping up on him, "It's because we've no' such big gobs as Yanks!"

Ziva and Dante found this particularly hilarious, for some reason.

They had been given files before they left the museum, and they perused them as they ate. When everyone was ready to talk, Ziva began by saying.

"So it seems that von Doom is prepared to let us enter Latveria and do whatever is necessary, but all unofficially. I understand the political and diplomatic reasons for that, but why this specific group?"

"Puzzles me, too." Harry said. "I mean, I'm sort of out of touch with the muggle world nowadays, but if I remember right, America is up to the neck in super-powered types, and not all of them work for the Government. Why not send some of them?"

"Lot of reasons," Tony said. "But two main ones. First, the press keeps pretty close tabs on meta-human and mutant activity – most of those guys weren't exactly low-profile. Second, and more important, there aren't that many left since the Stolen Earth business in '08."

"Nothing like a Dalek invasion to thin the ranks." Said the Doctor grimly. "I take it the wizard world didn't suffer too much, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes and no." He said. "The Daleks couldn't see past the magic we use to hide our homes and things, but a lot of wizards have muggle family and friends, or just pitched in to help anyway. We lost about four or five thousand worldwide – not much compared to the muggle losses, I know – mostly trying to protect people. I lost a couple of friends, and some other people I knew were killed. Took a few Daleks with them, mind you – they don't seem to understand magic, and while most spells don't work on them, there are a few that can do some serious damage even to their armour."

"The Daleks were created out of science, by a scientist named Davros." The Doctor said. "He wouldn't believe in magic, wouldn't have designed the Daleks to resist it that well. But what about the superhero types, Tony?"

"They fought," Tony said sadly, "And a lot of them died. Spider-Man, Reed Richards, Johnny Storm, Luke Cage, Daniel Rand, Jennifer Walters, a lot of others. Most of the Avengers were killed; my bodyguard, Iron Man, was too tough for them, and Thor survived because he was in Asgard, and when the Earth was moved, Bifrost couldn't reach here. Most of a mutant group called the X-Men were also killed, but their mentor, Charles Xavier, was able to hide his school and the younger mutants telepathically. The Hellfire Club and their Hellions were massacred, as were the Brotherhood of Mutants, except for Erik Lensherr, who proved too much even for the Daleks.

"We know the Daleks attacked Atlantis, because subs from various navies assisted Prince Namor in defending the place. We also know that at least four Dalek battle-groups were destroyed in Nevada, near Groom Lake, trying and failing to deal with the Hulk. The SHIELD helicarrier was shot down and Colonel Nick Fury was killed. In Japan, the mutant Sunfire took down the force-fields around Monster Island and let Godzilla, Rodan and the rest loose on the Daleks. Left them a few monsters down, but they took out a lot of Daleks, and I don't think anyone will miss Mothra or Ghidrah! In Canada, Alpha Flight was wiped out, as were the Beta and Gamma training Flights."

Tony sighed. "The worst loss in some ways was the Slayers. Hundreds of brave young women, trying to take on the Daleks with swords and crossbows. It would have been pathetic if it hadn't been tragic. They were wiped out."

"No great loss," growled Dante, "I'd about had it with those dumb-ass amateurs getting under my feet!"

Tony glared, then decided to let it go. "Anyway, after everything settled down, the Government stepped in, in the US, anyway. Xavier's school is now a federally-funded training centre. Lensherr manages the Avengers, who are now officially part of SHIELD and under the UNIT umbrella – they're composed of the survivors of the old Avengers, what's left of the X-Men and Ben Grimm. Sue Richards works with Xavier, she wants no part of the combat work now, she's devoted to her son. Steve Rogers – Captain America – survived, but he's in a wheelchair now. He's been promoted to Colonel and put in charge of SHIELD.

"So, the meta-humans are now too official for the job."

"Which still leaves the question, why us? Specifically, us?" Harry asked again.

"Well, as far as that goes," said the Doctor. "We need a wizard, because the other four Keys belonged to wizards, and they'll be protected by magic. I have the fifth Key, and I know more about Daleks than anyone else in the Universe! Mind, I know more about almost everything than anyone else in the Universe! Anyway, Tony has the technology – if anyone on Earth has access to weapons or defences that can cope with Daleks, he does. Then we have Ziva and Duncan to use the weapons – both expert fighters. Dante is practically a force of nature – I know your reputation, son of Sparda, and I knew your father – one of the few humans, or near-humans, who can take on a Dalek single-handed and win. Daniel is an archaeologist, with a knack for finding things that other people can't – like buried alien artefacts – so we'll need him to find the Keys.

"Anyway, that's the rationale we're meant to arrive at. But the one thing we can be absolutely sure of is that John Steed knows a lot more than he's telling us!" The Doctor paused for a moment, then added quietly. "And so, for that matter, does Ood Sigma."

"You don't trust Sir John?" asked Duncan.

"About as far as I could throw Dante." The Doctor stated flatly. "John Steed is a brave, kind, loyal and patriotic man who has worked tirelessly all his life for this country and world. But don't ever make the mistake of thinking he's a _good_ man, or one that would stop at sacrificing the truth, or a life or two, for the greater good!"

That phrase – 'the greater good' – held resonances for Harry, and as he met the Doctor's eyes, he guessed that the enigmatic TimeLord was well aware of them. He decided to move ahead, for now.

"So, these Keys," he said, "Any ideas where to start looking?"

Everybody shook their heads, so Harry went on. "Well, we can guess they're here in the UK, because the Founders were British, and did most of their work here. I admit that doesn't narrow the field a lot, but having said that, we should also be able to confine that to wizarding Britain. Unfortunately, not a lot is known about the Founder's lives either before or after they founded Hogwarts.

"If I had to guess, I'd say that they put the Keys in places that were important to them. That might mean that Gryffindor's Key is somewhere near or around Godric's Hollow."

"Wait a sec," Dante broke in. "Doctor, you knew these guys, worked with them. Don't you know where they hid their Keys?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I move around a lot," he pointed out. "And it's not always easy for me to keep tabs on people. They knew how to reach me if they ever needed me, but they never did. It was at least three hundred years – Earth time – before I encountered English wizards again, and the Founders were pretty much legend by then. I know there was a falling-out and Salazar left, and I know at least some of them had families – descendants – but that's about all. The Keys were a precaution, because there was always a chance we might have to enter the Vault again, and because Godric and Helga were both uncomfortable with the idea of locking any being, even a Dalek, away forever."

"Might be a clue in these files?" Ziva asked. "We should look through them anyway."

While the others opened their folders, Harry's eye lighted on an envelope that lay beside his place. He remembered Kreacher had mentioned an Owl, and was about to put it aside when he saw the address was written in a hand he recognised. _What does Minerva want?_ He wondered. He knew that both Ginny and Hermione maintained an active correspondence with their former Head of House, though he didn't ("Don't worry," Ginny had told him, "It's a woman thing."), but this letter was addressed directly to him. He opened it, and two sheets of parchment dropped out, one new, one clearly very ancient.

The new one was a brief note in McGonagall's bold, spiky hand:

_Dear Harry,_

_I have been asked, under rather unusual circumstances, to send you the enclosed. It is called the Old Map and is a very ancient map of Hogwarts and its environs, dating back to the Founders themselves. Please treat it with care._

_I can only assume that this means your instinct for trouble remains as unerring as it was when you were my student! May I also express the hope that whatever you are engaged upon brings you here again in the near future? It would be a pleasure to see you again._

_With kindest regards,_

_Minerva_

Harry lost no time in drawing the other's attention to this new clue. "Nice timing." Ziva muttered, but the Doctor laughed.

"Not a coincidence," he told her, "More than likely either Steed or Ood Sigma had a hand in it. Minerva's good, but not that good!"

"You know Minerva McGonagall?" Harry asked.

"Since she was a girl," the Doctor replied. "And quite a girl she was!"

By this time, Tony had spread the map on the table. Unfolded, it was quite large, and though the parchment was clearly old, it was still sturdy, the ink drawings still clear.

"So," Tony said, "These'll be your old stamping-grounds, Harry. Anything you don't recognise?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "There's the school in the centre, with the lake and the Dark Forest. That village is Hogsmeade – it seems a little smaller but not that different."

"There's a helluva lot of empty space round the edges." Dante remarked. "See how the school and the village are crammed in the centre, then the map's blank to the edge. Aren't old maps supposed to say "here there be Dragons" or something?"

"I wonder..." Harry pulled out his wand and touched it to the centre of the map: "_Legis Arcanum!_" he murmured. A shimmer passed over the map and Ziva said "Oh!"

Four symbols had appeared in the centre of each edge of the map. A lion to the north, a serpent to the east, a badger in the south and an eagle, west.

"Those are the crests of the four Houses!" Harry told them all, excitedly, "Gryffindor in the north, Slytherin in the east, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the south and west. I think we're on to something. What's that next to the lion – it looks like writing, but not any kind I've seen before? It's not runes or anything."

Daniel bent across the map. "It's mediaeval minuscule," he said, "It says '_requiro clavis V_'. 'I need the fifth key'."

Everyone looked at the Doctor, who shrugged and took out the device he'd called a sonic screwdriver. "I bet," he said, "That this will react to the setting I used to lock the Vault."

As he played the device over the map, it emitted a trilling sound and an intense blue light. The map responded first by glowing gently, and then by revealing four buildings, each the same distance from Hogwarts, at the cardinal points. In the south was a collection of fields and long, low buildings clustered around a comfortable-looking house, this was labelled "Helga's Garden". Due west, "Rowena's Manse" was an elegant, two-storey mansion with wings built out from the front to surround a formal garden. Eastwards was a grim castle identified as "Salazar's Keep", while to the north rose another castle, more graceful and with a tall, slender tower, called "Godric's Hold".

"I suppose," said Harry after a moment, "that it makes sense. They'd want to stay close to the school, but they wouldn't want to live there. The places will have been hidden from muggles and, at a guess, from wizards as well, or we'd have heard of them."

"And one of them," Ziva put in, "Must have made this map just in case the Doctor needed to find the Keys again. Otherwise, they wouldn't have made it to respond only to that sonic screwdriver thing."

"That makes me think that the Keys, or at least the information as to where to find them, must be in those houses!" Daniel spoke for everyone. "Harry, what are the chances of those houses still standing?"

"Over ninety per cent, I'd say," Harry told him, "They'll have every kind of preserving charm on them. Hogwarts Castle is still standing after a thousand years, so there's no reason for these places to have fallen down!

"With this map, we should be able to get past the concealing magic, but there's likely to be other defences as well. What Hufflepuff would have done I can't begin to guess. Ravenclaw will have put some kind of test of knowledge or intelligence in place..."

"Oh, well, I'm already in there, then!" declared the Doctor happily.

"Whatever," said Dante, "What about the others, Harry?"

"Well, Gryffindor would want to test courage and chivalry, I'll bet. As for Slytherin, that might get nasty, lots of Dark magic. Especially for anyone who isn't a Pureblood wizard."

"So," Duncan summed up. "What we're looking for is hidden in those houses, which centre on Hogwarts Castle. Where is Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Scotland," Harry told him. "Out the back of beyond in the Highlands. Only wizards can find it – or people who have wizards with them."

"So, I'm for a wee trip hame then!" Duncan said with a pleased smile.

"It would make sense," Ziva said, "to make Hogwarts the base for this part of the mission."

"The only trouble being," Harry pointed out, "that the place will be full of kids, all of who will know who I am, and will want to know why I've arrived trailing a pack of muggles! They'll write home to their parents, who'll write to the school and the Ministry...could be awkward."

"I think," the Doctor said, "That Sir John and the Minister of Magic can come up with a story for us. I'll use the phone in the TARDIS to call Sir John."

While the Doctor was gone, the others wanted to know what sort of things they could expect at Hogwarts. Harry spent a happy fifteen minutes talking about his old school until the Doctor returned.

"It's all arranged," he announced. "We're a special joint commission set up by the Ministry of Magic and the United Nations to ensure that wizard children are being given the proper levels of care and education. If we stop by the Museum in the morning Commander Bond will be there with the papers. Now, how long will it take us to get to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"No time at all, in the TARDIS, I should think!" Harry hazarded.

The Doctor shook his head. "Can't be done." he said. "*I can't take the TARDIS to Hogwarts, or even to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. She can't go anywhere too magical."

"Why not?" Tony wanted to know.

The Doctor rubbed at his head abstractedly. "Who was the human writer who said that any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic?" He asked.

"Arthur C Clarke, I think." Daniel told him.

"That sounds right," the Doctor allowed. "Well, he was wrong, as wrong as it's possible even for a human to be! Magic and technology are diametrically opposed. One's based on knowledge and logic, the other on belief and instinct.

"Look, what happens when matter and anti-matter collide?"

"Bang." said Duncan.

"Very big bang." amplified Daniel.

"World-endingly big bang." Tony concluded.

"Exactly!" said the Doctor. "Now Hogwarts, and those other places, are about as magical as it's possible to get. The TARDIS, on the other hand, is probably the single most advanced piece of technology in the Universe. Put them together, and you'll get a bang big enough to tear a hole in Reality. Believe me, you don't want to know what would be on the other side of that hole!"

"Hang on a minute!" Harry objected. "The TARDIS is standing right there in the middle of my ballroom, and I'm not hearing any bangs!"

"Of course not!" said the Doctor testily. "This house has a couple of Concealing Charms on it, and a few magical items here and there; wands, brooms, the odd picture and so on. But apart from that it's just a house – a fine Georgian town house. It was built by muggles for muggles and all that happened was that a wizard family bought it. The little bits of magic floating around can't get through the TARDIS' shields. But Hogwarts has a thousand years worth of magic, just to hold the place up, not to mention all the other kit. The TARDIS can't shield against all that!

"So we need to get to Hogwarts by more conventional means."

"Well," Harry said, "The Hogwarts Express takes most of a day to get there, but it only runs on the first and last days of term. There's the Knight Bus, but I'm not sure muggles could use it and I wouldn't recommend it anyway! You can't apparate in and out of the school, and even if you could, I'd have to take you one at a time. I could do a portkey, or we could try to Floo there, I suppose."

"No, that's not going to work." Tony objected. "By the look of that map, those houses are some distance from the castle, for one thing. For another, we're likely to need some equipment – I'm certainly not happy about going into God knows what sort of situation with only what I've got in my pockets!

"Now, I've had a Support Unit – an armed and armoured ATV, stuffed full of all kinds of useful equipment – on standby at Heathrow since I arrived. I can get my people to prepare an aircraft to take us and the vehicle anywhere in the UK in a couple hours!"

"Hogwarts doesn't have an airport," Harry pointed out.

Tony laughed. "The plane I had in mind is a tilt-turbo job. It can land vertically if it has to. If you can guide us there, Harry, we can land anywhere there's space."

"Oh, I can get us there," Harry assured him. "I'll have to send an Owl to Minerva though, let her know what to expect!"

By the time details had been finalised and Harry had written the letter, it was close to dinner time. While Kreacher showed the rest of the League to the rooms he'd prepared for them, Harry went up into the loft. He'd never had the heart to buy another owl himself, after Hedwig had given her life for him, he'd felt it would be somehow disrespectful. Ginny's tawny owl, Ermintrude, had gone to the Burrow with her and the children, but the loft wasn't completely empty. Ginny had tried to persuade him to buy another owl, and had taken him to Eeylops to see if he could find one he liked, but they had never reached the shop. Instead, as they passed the Magical Menagerie, a large cage on a stand outside caught his eye. It held an exceptionally large and black raven, who looked quizzically at Harry with bright and intelligent eyes. They discovered that the raven was a 'highly-repected' inhabitant of the shop, as the owner put it. When pressed, she admitted that every other creature in the place was 'scared to death of the thing'. Remembering Hermione's fortunate choice of the supposedly unsellable Crookshanks, and taken by the way the bird watched him, Harry bought the raven. At Hermione's suggestion, he called it 'Quoth', and had found it to be a very reliable carrier of messages. Now he tied the letter for Minerva onto Quoth's leg and told him, "Take this to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, please." Quoth cocked his head at Harry and croaked "Professor McGonagall. Hogwarts." as if repeating his instructions, then took off out of the loft window.

Dinner was a pleasant meal. Kreacher had prepared roast pork with vegetables, a starter of minestrone soup and Harry's favourite treacle tart for dessert. The League were all strangers to each other, and the time was an opportunity to get to know each other a little. Harry took care of his duties as host, trying to keep everyone involved, but it wasn't easy. The Doctor, Tony and Daniel were all voluble, Daniel less so than the other two. But Duncan seemed naturally taciturn, and Dante laconic. Ziva also said little at first, but Harry judged her quietness to be the result of caution rather than habit, as she joined in the conversation more animatedly as the meal went on. Duncan also thawed a little, showing a penchant for dry wit that matched Harry's own, but Dante remained quiet. It occurred to Harry that the demon-hunter's profession left him few opportunities for socialising.

Still, by the time they got onto coffee, everyone was fairly easy in each other's company. Whether that would last once they got into action was another matter, of course. Harry considered breaking out some Firewhisky, then decided against it. They'd need clear heads tomorrow. That seemed to be a general consensus, and since they also needed an early start, it wasn't too long before they all turned in for the night.

_Hogwarts School, Hogsmeade, 19th-20__th__ May 2011_

Despite the lateness of the hour, a dim light burned in the Head's study. Unlike her predecessor, Minerva McGonagall was a firm adherent of the 'early to bed, early to rise' school of thought, and would have been most surprised to find anyone there.

Only one of the three individuals engaged in this quiet but intense conversation actually belonged there. The figure of the late Albus Dumbledore paced around within the portrait behind the desk.

"So Harry has joined this League, as I assured you he would." he said with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "And when he asks me, as he will, I will share with him such knowledge as I have concerning the Founders and their homes. But I should like to know why all this is necessary? Harry has been through enough without exposing him to such a risk now he has a family and a normal life!"

One of the other figures lifted a white globe. "No other wizard could provide what is required. Harry Potter has a special strength." said Ood Sigma.

"This I have known for many years," Dumbledore replied, "But to rely on his particular strengths in these circumstances..."

The woman perched on the edge of the desk leaned forward, her strong, attractive features enhanced by the light of the small lamp beside her.

"Stop it, you old fraud!" she told Dumbledore in a voice that was half-teasing, half-contemptuous. "You set Harry up to be slaughtered as a teenager, so don't pretend to be all anxious about him now! And don't," she snapped, "Give me that injured look! You had no way of knowing that Harry would survive that Killing Curse! You could make sure the Malfoy boy disarmed you; you could force that poor fool Snape to protect Malfoy and to kill you, yes. You could make sure Voldemort never mastered the Elder Wand fully, and make sure Harry Potter eliminated every last horcrux, including himself. But you couldn't ensure that Harry would fight and beat Malfoy, and become the master of the Wand himself. You didn't even calculate that one in, did you? You meant for him to die, and nobody was more surprised than you when he survived!"

Dumbledore said nothing, but sat down again. Ood Sigma stirred. "This is past history. Our concern is with the future."

Dumbledore looked up from his apparent brooding. "You're both from this future. Do we succeed?"

The woman gave an impish grin. "No spoilers!" said River Song.


	4. Chapter 4

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Four: Hogwarts Castle**

_Heathrow to Hogwarts, May 20__th__, 2011_

The plane was just about the biggest vehicle Harry had seen close to. Wizards went on foreign holidays by a variety of means – portkey, apparation, even Vanishing Cabinet – but not often by plane. This thing had four huge propellors, a cargo bay at the rear which accommodated the large Support Vehicle (bigger than a bus) and a commodious passenger and crew compartment at the front.

Tony was explaining to Ziva. "Planes and choppers both have limitations, of course. Planes need a runway to land and choppers can only carry so much. You can only make a chopper so big, and only shorten a landing distance so much.

"Well, back in 1989, Bell designed the V-22 Osprey, which is a tilt-rotor plane – you know that one, yeah? It's a nice plane, but Bell couldn't see a way to make it much more than an infantry transport. So a couple years ago, they leased the design to Stark International, to see what we could do with it. Of course, once I got a look at it, it was obvious what we needed to do. This baby has more carrying capacity than a Herky-bird and can land on a handkerchief!"

Tony turned to the rest of the League. "Since this deal is beyond top secret, I'll be doing the flying. Harry, I'll need you to navigate, pal."

Harry blew out his cheeks. "Going to be awkward," he pointed out, "You won't be able to see the place until you've actually landed - it's done like that because the RAF occasionally flies planes around that area. How good a pilot are you?"

"Fair," Tony allowed, "but I'm not sure I like the idea of landing somewhere I can't see!"

Dante stepped forward. "I can see magical places," he revealed, "I'm no wizard, but I do have some of their abilities."

"Can you fly this bird?" asked Tony.

Dante shrugged, "If it's got wings, I can fly it!"

Harry kept some muggle items at home, because his work occasionally took him to muggle places, so he had a reasonable idea of the map references for where Hogwarts should be. As a result, the first part of the flight didn't require him to do much except sit in the co-pilots' seat beside Dante and hope that nothing happened. He was acutely aware of the controls in front of him which he had no idea how to use!

In the passenger compartment behind them, the Doctor and Tony were relatively quiet for a change. Daniel had opened up and, at the Doctor's urging, was regaling his new friends with some tall tales of his adventures off-world as part of the SG1 team. Harry was beginning to realise that there was a lot more to muggles than his childhood with the rigidly conventional Dursleys had led him to believe!

Their position at the front left Dante and Harry a little isolated from the rest of the group, and given that the demon-hunter had been pretty taciturn up to now, Harry wasn't expecting much conversation, so he was pleasantly surprised when Dante suddenly addressed him.

"You've got yourself, quite the rep, dude." he remarked. "Lot of the people I do jobs for mention you. I keep tabs on the wizard world, 'cause a lot of my work comes out of it."

Harry shrugged. "It's the Voldemort thing, I suppose." He touched his scar reflexively. "I have to admit, that was all done more by luck than judgement!"

"Hell, no!" Dante disagreed. "Yeah, you were a kid, like seventeen, when all that went down. At that age, you got nothing but luck and talent. I was the same – my father was a demon, so I got the talent, and the first couple scraps I got into, I had the luck.

"But it's what you've done since that counts, Harry. The good ones, they learn, and you did. That Blackstone Curse case – the house that was killing people – that was some job you did there, and it's not the only one. You're a pro, Harry, like me, and I'm glad you're on this job."

Harry remembered Dante's comment about the Slayers. "You don't like amateurs much, do you?" he asked.

"They're trouble," Dante said flatly. "Yeah, some of them have talent, and they can do good work to a point. But when the chips are down, and it's time to call in the big boys, you gotta have pros. The X-Men proved that in '08. Why d'you think the Summers brothers and Jean Grey went down while Wolverine, with half their raw power, is still around? It's 'cause Logan's a pro.

"That's why this team's gonna work, I reckon. You and I are both professionals, for one thing. That Ziva, she's ex-Mossad, and they don't deal with amateurs. The Highlander's been in the game for 300 years, he won't miss a trick. Jackson? He claims he's a nerd, but he's done enough with StarGate Command to show different. Stark knows the tech-stuff like nobody else, and in this game, we're gonna need that!"

"What about the Doctor?" asked Harry. Dante glanced keenly at him before turning back to his instruments.

"You have to ask that question," he said slowly, "It means you're not ready for the answer, pal. The Doctor, he's one of a kind. He's kinda always been there, y'know? Two things I can tell you, Harry, about the Doctor. If he says he can or will do something, it's as good as done, that's one. The other is, don't ever piss him off!"

Harry chuckled. "I'll take your word for that, Dante! By the way, I've never heard you talk so much!"

Dante gave a short laugh. "I work alone a lot of the time, Harry. Guess I'm not used to being in a team, and I don't really know how it works."

Harry shrugged. "You watch out for each other, and nobody gets left behind. That simple, mate."

"'Mate?'" Dante chuckled,"What you Brits do the the language!"

"Oi!" Harry protested, "We invented it, it's the Colonials that mucked it about!"

Dante laughed. "I'm not gonna argue that one! Right, Mr Potter, let's see how quickly the youngest Seeker ever to play for a House team can learn to fly this heap!"

Harry had always been at home in the air, and he found that the techniques of flying a plane, while a little more second-hand than a broom, lent themselves handily to the instincts he'd always had. As a result, he was in control of the plane for about half of the flight. Still, as they reached the map reference where Hogwarts ought to be, Harry gladly handed control back to Dante. The others crowded toward the front now, eager for a glance at their destination.

"There!" Harry called, spotting the Astronomy Tower, "Over to the left!"

"Got it!" Dante replied. "I'll do a circuit until we spot a good place to put this thing down."

"Excuse me," said Ziva doubtfully, "I'm still not used to the wizard thing. All I can see is a forest, a lake and an old ruined castle."

"Same here," said Tony, "We have to trust Harry and Dante."

"I can see the castle, too," the Doctor put in, "It's not a ruin."

"Looks like one to me!" Duncan remarked.

"Ah!" said Daniel, "As far as I can see it's definitely a complete castle, and by the look of it, inhabited!"

"You can see it?" Harry was surprised.

"Yeah," Daniel allowed, "I can. Probably because I nearly Ascended a couple times. Sometimes I see things other people don't."

Dante had completed a circuit, now he said to Harry. "OK, there's lot of empty space I can land in. Where's best?"

"There's a kinda stadium thing over there..." Daniel suggested.

"No way!" Harry told him. "That's the Quidditch pitch! Landing there is more than our collective lives are worth!"

"What about close to the Castle?" Dante asked, "Near that big old tree?"

"Not a good idea," Harry demurred, "For one thing, the teachers won't like the plane too close. The kids will be curious enough as it is, and we don't want them craning their necks to stare out of the windows at this thing during lessons.

"For another, that 'big old tree' is the Whomping Willow. It attacks anything that gets too close, and we don't want it damaging the plane!

"Tell you what, put us down closer to the Forest, near that hut. That belongs to Hagrid, the grounds-keeper. He can keep an eye on the plane while we're elsewhere."

"You're the guy who knows the place." Dante said. "Hang on, people, I've never landed this baby before!"

Despite his warning, Dante was deft in his handling of the big plane, slowly rotating the engines through ninety degrees as he made his approach so that by the time they were over the chosen landing spot the aircraft was, to all intents and purposes, a large helicopter. Dante set the craft down lightly, shut it down, and the League debarked.

As Harry was gratefully stretching his legs, a huge voice bellowed "Harry! Harry Potter!"

Harry turned and found himself engulfed in a huge embrace. Despite the fact that Harry himself now stood a clear six feet tall, he still felt dwarfed beside Hagrid! The rest of the League stood staring – and grinning- as their wizard member staggered under the enthusiastic greeting of an eight-foot-tall man with wild black hair and beard, wearing a shabby, many-pocketed overcoat and sloppy boots.

Hagrid stepped back at last. "Harry Potter!" he said, shaking his head in wonder. "When I first saw yeh, yeh was just a little baby! The next time I saw yeh, yeh were a skinny kid who didn't even know rightly who he was! Never out of trouble, all through school! Now look at yeh! Head Auror, married to little Ginny, and a dad yerself. Told you you'd be a thumpin' good wizard some day, didn't I?"

Harry, who had now recovered his breath, introduced Hagrid to his team-mates.

"Ah! Yeh'll be the lot from that United Nations thing?" said the giant, "Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper, Gamekeeper, Keeper of Keys and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, at your service. They're expecting yeh down at the school."

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry. "Can you keep an eye on the plane for us?"

"O'course I can, Harry!" Hagrid declared. "What does it eat?"

By the time they arrived at the great doors, Harry knew that the students would all be in class. He was pleased at this, since as one of the school's most famous old boys, he would have been the object of much unwanted attention in crowded corridors. Nevertheless, he still felt a little daunted at the sight of the tall, slim figure in green who awaited him at the top of the stairs.

Minerva McGonagall was not quite as straight as she once had been, and carried a stick these days. But her eyes were as sharp as ever, and her expression just as severe, though it softened as her eyes lit on Harry, and she came forward, greeting him with an unexpected hug.

"It's good to see you again, Harry," she greeted him, "You are looking well. But really, you should come here more often. Our students need to hear from someone who represents, as you do, the best of this school!

"Agent David, a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you and Harry have a great deal to discuss regarding methods of law enforcement.

"Mr Stark, I expect you will find a good deal in our world to interest you, especially comparisons between your own devices and ours. Our Muggle Studies professor will, I am sure, be glad to spend some time with you.

"Dr Jackson, your reputation precedes you, even in our world. Our Professor of Ancient Runes is eager to consult with you regarding some manuscripts and carvings he has been unable to penetrate.

"Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod. Any visitor bearing so distinguished a name is welcome here.

"Dante, son of Sparda. Your work on behalf the Order of the Phoenix is well-remembered amongst those of us who remain."

Finally, McGonagall turned to the Doctor, and greeted him with an embrace considerably more hearty than the one that had so surprised Harry.

"It's been a long time since Prague," she told him, "But you haven't changed a bit, Doctor! Don't you dare say I haven't!"

"All right, I won't," the Doctor replied. "But I still think it's a shame you didn't come with me when I asked you."

Minerva shook her head. "You life isn't – wasn't for me." She told him. "And I've had my fair share of thrills and spills since, anyway!"

She led them into the building, through the Great Hall. Harry suddenly felt at home, but the rest of the League stared around them in amazement and delight.

"Wow!" Exclaimed the Doctor. "This is brilliant! What an amazing room!"

"What kind of place is this?" Ziva wanted to know.

"Well," said Daniel, "My palms just got sweaty and my stomach's started to hurt, so..."

"This must be a High School!" Finished Tony.

That caused some general laughter, then Minerva went on.

"Now, the students have classes today, of course. I've given everyone to understand that you will be in meetings with myself and some of the Governors for the day. This will give you a chance to set about at least part of your actual mission. Then tomorrow there is a Quidditch match, the last of the season; Gryffindor versus Slytherin for the House Cup. I'm sure Harry at least will want to watch that, and the rest of you should be seen.

"Sunday you may employ as you please, but on Monday I have scheduled meetings with the teaching staff. On Tuesday you will ostensibly be meeting in private to collate your findings, then on Wednesday you will have to observe some classes and speak with the students.

"Beyond that, I have made no definite plans and we may need to improvise."

An unused classroom had been set aside for the League's use, and they took a hasty meal there, while deciding what to do.

"It strikes me," Harry said, "That we should start with Helga's Garden. For one thing, I don't want to tackle something like Godric's Hold or Salazar's Keep until the rest of you have had a bit of magical experience. No offence, but you're all muggles, more or less, and there's going to be a lot of stuff you've not seen before. Now, if Daniel were to cart me off into Outer Space, I'd want to visit one of the less dangerous planets first! From what I know of Hufflepuffs in general, I don't think Helga would have put up any kind of lethal defence to her home."

"You're right, Harry!" the Doctor asserted. "Helga was a gentle soul, who believed in hard work, honesty and friendship."

"Geez!" Dante complained, "When's this trip gonna start being fun?"

_Helga's Garden, May 20__th__, 2011_

The Stark International Heavy All-Terrain Support Vehicle was not the most comfortable thing any member of the League had ever ridden in. Despite its size, the interior was so crammed with sophisticated electronics that there was barely room to sit. At least the four independent axles made the ride, even cross-country, tolerably smooth.

Ziva was examining a pair of folding ladders next to hatches in the ceiling.

"Where do these go, Tony?" she asked.

"Turrets," he called back from the driver's seat. "Front one's a minigun, middle one's a prototype miniature railgun – packs a Hell of a punch! We've got plenty of ammo for both, just in case."

"What about this thing?" Duncan indicated a cylindrical chamber, just large enough to accommodate one person, situated at the rear of the cabin.

Tony glanced back over his shoulder, then said firmly, "Sorry, pal, that's classified. This rig is a prototype itself, and has some experimental gear aboard."

Harry spoke quietly to Dante. "So, what exactly did you do for the Order? And why didn't I know about it?"

"You didn't need to know, Harry." Dante said seriously. "The only Order people who knew were Dumbledore, Prof McGonagall and a guy called Remus, who was the go-between. As to what I did, well there were some items that nobody wanted Voldemort to find, and some people who needed to be taken out, or warned off, before he contacted them. That was my job, 'cause most of these dudes weren't exactly wizards – some weren't even human. I hunt demons and other supernatural types, like you hunt dark wizards, but I'm a freelance. I get paid by the job, and the Order paid well and on time. I did suggest they let me pop a cap in Voldemort's ass right at the start, but Dumbledore seemed to think it wouldn't help."

"No, it wouldn't have done, not right at the start, anyway," Harry allowed, "Riddle had taken some pretty extreme precautions against getting killed in any of the usual ways."

They were interrupted by a "Whoa!" from Tony as he brought the vehicle to a sudden stop. In front of them they saw Helga's Garden. Some fields surrounded a cluster of long, low buildings, dominated by a comfortable-looking two-storey farmhouse.

"One minute it wasn't there, then it was!" Tony exclaimed. "This magic stuff takes getting used to."

The League ventured out, making their way to the yard outside the farmhouse door. Everything seemed quiet and deserted, but all the buildings looked sound, and there was no air of neglect or desertion. They tried the door and windows of the house, finding them all locked, even _alohomora_ elicited no response. Dante offered to kick the door down, but Harry and the Doctor advised against it.

"Helga wasn't keen on violence or breaking things," the Doctor told them, "If we try to break in, chances are we'll be permanently blocked out."

"We've got company." said Ziva in a low, tight tone.

The League's reactions were an odd mix. Tony glanced toward the transport, as if trying to judge how quickly he could reach it. The Doctor merely turned, an expression of eager curiosity on his face. Harry whipped out his wand, Duncan produced a samurai sword from somewhere under his coat. Ziva was already holding a gun in a steady, two-handed grip, Dante ignored the huge broadsword he carried slung across his back, instead producing two very large automatics from under his red duster coat. An odd device suddenly appeared in Daniel's hand, it made a weird, electronic sound and unfolded like a small metal snake.

The entrance to the farmyard was blocked by a crowd of about a dozen scarecrows. They simply stood there, neither advancing nor retreating, but seeming to watch.

"Huh!" Harry grunted, "I was expecting a lot of things, but not to be ambushed by the Wurzel Gummidge Crew!"

The Doctor chuckled, then said, "They're not attacking us. I think they're just here to make sure we do something."

"Cover me," Ziva murmured, "I'm going to try something."

Holding her gun pointing downwards, she advanced steadily toward the scarecrows. She got within three metres of them when the sky suddenly seemed to darken. There was a cacophony of wingbeats and harsh cries, and Ziva was suddenly surrounded by a flock of crows. A crow is a big, powerful bird to begin with, and thirty or so of them are more than enough to mob a human - even one as fit and highly-trained as Ziva David. It was a testament to her training that she didn't panic, but managed to holster her gun whilst protecting her eyes.

"Damn!" growled Dante, "I daren't fire in case I hit Ziva!"

"Fire into the air?" Duncan asked, "Try to scare them off?"

Dante blasted off a few rounds skyward, which the crows ignored.

"Don't think these buggers are scared of anything!" Harry said, "And I'll bet any money they're magic-proof, too!"

Ziva, meanwhile, had decided to take matters into her own hands. She'd quickly realised that the birds were not actually touching her. They were blocking her path forward, battering at her with the wind from their wings, but were not trying to peck or claw her. Moving quickly, she turned, dropped and rolled back toward her teammates. The crows immediately drew off, rising to circle above the yard. She got to her feet and rejoined the League.

"They weren't trying to hurt me," she said, "Just stop me. I've never been attacked by a flock of crows before!"

"Murder," the Doctor corrected her, "It's a 'murder' of crows."

"Whatever," she responded, "What do we do now?"

As if in answer, one of the scarecrows stepped stiffly forward, raised an arm, and pointed past the League to the farmhouse door. Following the gesture, they saw a sheet of parchment pinned to the wood.

"That wasn't there before!" Tony said.

"I expect," said the Doctor, "That those are our instructions."

Daniel went over and took the parchment down. "Latin," he told them. "It says, _You may enter when your work is done. The back field must be cleared, ploughed and sown. Use what skills you have_. Doesn't sound too hard!"

"Maybe not to you!" Dante grumbled. "I've never planted so much as a grass seed!"

"I've been a farmer before," Duncan said.

"Me too," Daniel added, "For a while, anyway."

"I spent time on a _kibbutz_." Ziva added, "And I suppose you've farmed, Doctor?"

"Grew a few bananas, once." He allowed.

"So that leaves thee and me!" Harry told Dante, "All I've done is a bit of gardening at Godric's Hollow – I've got a weekend place there – and that was because Ginny stood over me with a wand!"

At that point, another shadow passed over them, causing them to look up and see four extraordinary-looking animals fly down and settle near a stable.

"What the Hell are those?" Tony wanted to know.

"They're called Thestrals," Harry told them. "And I'll bet they're here to pull the plough. Which we'd better find, now I think about it!"

"Split up and look round?" suggested Daniel.

It didn't take long. There was a loft full of seed bags, a broken plough and the four Thestrals, who looked as if they'd flown quite a distance. The back field was not too large, but in serious need of clearing before it could be ploughed. The League discussed the matter, and decided that the Doctor and Tony would work on the plough, Ziva and Duncan would feed, water and rub down the Thestrals, Daniel (who despite his academic manner, was a fit and powerfully-built man) would get the seed down, and Harry and Dante would clear the field.

Harry had had to point out to Ziva and Duncan that Thestrals are carnivorous, but the creatures seemed friendly enough. They allowed themselves to be led into the stable where Duncan found a back room full of what appeared to be cuts of fresh meat. Once fed, the animals became even more amenable and clearly enjoyed the attention that a thorough rub down and grooming gave them.

Meanwhile, the Doctor and Tony made short work of the plough repairs. Despite his millionaire status, Tony had never been bothered about getting his hands dirty, and even as simple a device as a plough fascinated him. The Doctor found his role reduced to using his sonic screwdriver on the parts Tony's pocket toolkit couldn't manage.

"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked at one point. "I heard you had heart problems."

"No, I'm good," Tony told him, "I had my heart repaired years ago. Experimental artificial tissue. I figured, if we were going to market the stuff, it needed testing properly, so I volunteered myself!"

"Bit risky, that." the Doctor was impressed, "You being the boss and all!"

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not risk anyone else's neck if mine's available. My Dad always took his own risks, his own responsibility, and I do the same." It was clearly a point of principle for the man, and one that the Doctor noted with approval.

The combination of Harry's magic and Dante's superhuman strength made clearing the field a relatively quick and easy matter, so that by the time everyone else was ready, so was the field. The Thestrals took to the plough so easily that Harry concluded the yoke must be enchanted. Despite their almost skeletal appearance, they were strong animals, and pulled the plough readily under Duncan's expert guidance. The others followed behind, scattering the seed by hand. Still, the job took them until early afternoon to complete.

However, by the time they had cared for the animals and put the plough up, the field was full of ripe barley.

"Good Scottish soil, ye ken," Duncan told them. "Barley, oat and rye grow well here, wheat and corn not so well. Not so well as this, normally, though!"

"Little bit of magic, I expect," Harry said, "D'you think we're supposed to harvest this lot?"

"I reckon that's taken care of," said the Doctor, pointing.

The scarecrows had left the gate, and were advancing on the field, equipped with scythes, pitchforks and other harvesting gear. As the League watched, a bell began to ring insistently. Casting around, they found the source of the sound was the farmhouse, the door of which now stood invitingly open. They ventured in cautiously, to find themselves in a panelled hallway that led to the back of the house. Following the tantalising smell of home-baked fresh bread, they went down the hall, past a comfortable parlour on one side and what seemed to be a music room on the other, into a large, airy, sparkling clean kitchen.

Six chairs stood around the wooden table, which was laden with the kind of food Duncan always associated with the word 'repast'. There was pork pie, ripe cheese, home-made bread, butter, cold meats, an assortment of pickles and chutneys, apple pie, blackberry tart and several tall jugs. There were also plates, forks, knives and cups. Another note lay on the table, and Daniel read aloud:

_So much work will have given you an appetite. Enjoy your meal. Don't forget to wash your hands first! Come to the parlour afterwards, and we will talk._

Everyone was starving, and the food was irresistible. Not for the first time, Harry noted that all of the League had hearty appetites, though Ziva eschewed the pork pie and sausage rolls in favour of beef and chicken sandwiches. He inspected a couple of the jugs, poured himself a drink and turned to Tony, who sat next to him.

"Pumpkin juice or butterbeer?" he asked.

"Pumpkin juice, please," Tony said. Harry raised an eyebrow. "I can recommend the butterbeer," he said, "Nice stuff."

Tony gave a faint, sad, smile, "My name's Tony," he said quietly, "And I'm an alcoholic."

"Oh, shit! Sorry!" Harry was horribly embarrassed, which caused Tony to smile more broadly.

"Don't sweat it, pal. I went public with that years ago. I'm surprised you didn't know -everything I do and say tends to end up in the papers!"

"The muggle papers," Harry reminded him, "I only read those when something I'm working on might involve the muggle world. I'm sorry, Tony, but you're not a celebrity in my world."

"I must visit more often." Tony said wryly.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the League repaired to the parlour they had seen on the way in. Awaiting them by the fireplace was the ghost of an elderly woman with a matronly figure, long, thick white hair, a kindly, apple-cheeked face and soft brown eyes.

"Come ye in," she invited, "Sit you down, and let me see who and what you are."

She looked at Harry first. "Thou I seest," she said, "Thou art a wizard, half-blooded. Not of mine own house, but of Godric's. Name thyself, an it please thee."

"Harry Potter," he told her, "Of Gryffindor House. My father was James Potter, descended from the House of Peverell. My mother was Lily Evans, muggle-born."

"Be welcome, Harry Potter," The ghost turned to Dante. "I had first thought thee to be Lord Sparda, honoured greatly among wizards. But I see now it is not so, though thou dost resemble him strongly."

"He was my father," the demon-hunter replied, "My name is Dante."

The ghost nodded again, then looked at Duncan. "Thou art of the Undying Ones, yes?"

"Duncan MacLeod, of the clan MacLeod." He replied.

"Be welcome," she said again, before studying Daniel, "Thou hast the look of a muggle, but there is more to thee. Thou hast seen beyond the borders of mere flesh, and hast returned."

Daniel introduced himself. The ghost then welcomed Tony and Ziva, "Muggles both, but one with a mind that would please Rowena, the other full of a spirit that would joy Godric."

Finally, the ghost turned to the Doctor, and her eyes widened. "Can it be?" she whispered, "Thou art changed beyond measure in thy face and form, but still I would know thee! Only one burns so at the heart of Time itself. Dost thou not know me, Doctor?"

The Doctor rose and held out his hands, "Helga," he said softly, "you look great!"

Impulsively, she went to him and tried to put her hands in his, of course, they went through, making them both laugh. Helga shook her head, "Thou wast ever the flatterer, beloved. Dost thou not

prefer me thus?"

Her hair suddenly became corn-gold, her figure less matronly and more sensuous, the lines on her face smoothed out and she was suddenly a pretty, vivacious woman in her thirties. "This was the young widow thou didst charm so, my handsome rogue!"

"You never married again?" the Doctor asked.

"Nay," she replied, "I loved often and well, but never chose to wed. The children I had when we met where enough for me, and they all grew and had families of their own. My descendants live still. But never could I forget thee, Doctor."

"Wait a minute!" Harry burst out, "Are you...?"

The ghost left the Doctor to stand again by the fireside. "Yes," she told Harry, "I am Helga Hufflepuff. And now thou art wondering why I never chose to leave the Earth, but to remain here as a ghost?

"Consider Hogwarts. Each year, it is home to a thousand or more young folk. They must be fed, and fed well. This farm, my Garden, provides much of that food. While I yet lived, students from my House who completed their time at Hogwarts would come here to learn more from me. They would work the farm in return for their keep and lessons. Later, when I grew too old for that, I made the scarecrows to work the land, and had the house-elves take the crops to the school. Had I left, truly left, when my time came, all that would have ended. So I remained.

"But now I must ask, what brings so ill-assorted a group to my home? Or need I ask? Doctor, thou hast returned to me, when at our last parting thou saidst that we should not meet again, save for one ill chance."

"It's happened, Helga," the Doctor said heavily, "They're waking up. We have to get in there and stop it before things get out of hand."

Helga looked stricken, then said, "In the box upon the table. Take it and leave, there be no time to waste. One thing only I ask. If all goes well, return the Key here thyself, Doctor. I would talk with thee for longer, one last time."

"I promise," the Doctor said. Helga smiled and vanished.

There was a carved wooden box on the table, which sprang open with a click as the ghost disappeared. The Doctor reached in and took out a simple golden key, which he displayed to them.

"One down." He said. "Let's go!"

They were about five miles away from the Garden when it happened. A harsh alarm began to blare and Tony hit the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a sudden halt and tossing his passengers about. "Incoming!" He yelled, stabbing at a large red button on the dashboard.

The vehicle immediately stabilised itself as metal shutters closed over the windscreen. Lights came on inside and monitor screens flickered into life. A second later there was a muffled explosion from outside and the rig trembled a little. A calm, measured voice announced, "Missile strike. Deflector holding."

The monitors allowed a view all around the vehicle. On one side a helicopter gunship was hovering, while on the other a dozen heavily-armed men were approaching. The gunship bore an unusual insignia on its fuselage – a many-headed snake.

"HYDRA?" Ziva was puzzled, "What is this?"

"They're probably after this rig." Tony told her. "I'll deal with the gunship, you guys take out the soldiers."

As Tony scrambled up one of the ladders to a turret, a hatch in the floor opened to provide the League with protected access to the outside. From under the vehicle, Harry noticed that leglike struts had extended from the sides of the truck to plant themselves on the ground, providing extra stability. They could see the legs of the approaching gunmen. There was no need for orders. Harry, Ziva and Daniel crawled directly forward whilst Dante and Duncan moved out to the side. The Doctor hung back and Harry suddenly realised that the TimeLord was unarmed.

In the minigun turret, Tony took careful aim at the gunship's rotors and opened fire. A minigun fires so fast that individual shots can't be heard – the thing just makes one long evil snarl – and the tracer rounds follow each other so closely that it looks almost like a laser beam. The gunship was heavily armoured in the fuselage, but like any helicopter, the rotors were its weakness. The pilot tried to pull up too late, and instead the aircraft wavered away from the truck for about half a mile before nose-diving into the ground, flipping over and exploding.

Taking advantage of the distraction the fate of the gunship provided, the rest of the League moved out from under their vehicle and went on the attack. Harry pointed his wand at the nearest attacker and yelled "_Expelliarmus!_" He'd never chanced to use this spell on a muggle armed with a sub-machine gun, and the effect was not what he expected. The heavy weapon flew upwards, but the sling which secured it to its holder's arm went with it, and the arm broke with a sickening crack. The unfortunate soldier gave a high-pitched squeal of agony which was cut short as the stock of his gun caught him forcefully under the jaw, snapping his neck instantly. The gun spun through

the air toward Harry, who used a different charm to send it flying into the face of another soldier.

Ziva took down two men in succession with classic double-taps from her SIG. Daniel's odd weapon spat sparks to take another man out. The HYDRA troops barely had time to adjust to this expeditious removal of five of their number when Duncan appeared from nowhere on the flank and cut down two more with his katana. A quicker-witted gunman drew a bead on the Highlander, but Harry raised his wand and barked "_Avada Kedavra!_", finally sensible of Ziva's whispered admonition not to go easy on these men. It wasn't as if it was the first, or even the tenth, time Harry had had to kill since he became an Auror. But it was, he reflected briefly, his first muggle.

With eight of their number gone, the remaining four pulled closer together. This was a mistake, as Dante now came in from the other flank with a gun in each hand, and cut them down in a single brief volley.

For a moment, the League thought it was all over, then the ground rumbled and a huge metallic shape erupted out of it in front of them.

"Dreadnought!" Ziva yelled as the eight-foot-tall humanoid robot raised a hand toward them. Flames roared from its fingertips. Daniel and Ziva both dived and rolled, Harry simply cast a shield charm. Dante poured bullets into the thing to no avail, except that the Dreadnought turned to him and fired spikes from its knuckles with a sound like gunshots. The spikes struck Dante in the chest and he staggered back with a grunt and an oath, but seemed to take no real injury – a normal human would have been killed.

Then the air was filled with a high-pitched whine, and the Dreadnought froze. "Gotcha!" crowed the Doctor, stepping forward with his sonic screwdriver raised. "Now just a slight adjustment, and..." The sound changed pitch slightly, and the Dreadnought announced in a flat, metallic tone, "Shutdown order received.". Then it sat down in the grass, and its eyes went dark.

Tony came out of the truck, and the League surveyed the scene of their first battle.

"Now what," asked Dante, "Was that all about? Who are these guys?"

"HYDRA," Ziva repeated. "One of the oldest and most powerful terrorist organisations in the world."

"Never heard of them." Harry told her.

"You wouldn't have," Tony said, "I don't think they know your world exists, Harry. HYDRA was founded in World War 2 by a disaffected Nazi, Johann Schmidt, who was known as the Red Skull. My dad helped Captain America fight them. They thought the Skull was dead and HYDRA with him, but the organisation at least survived."

"We know about them at NCIS," Ziva added, "But they usually work through proxies these days. They have to, because most modern terrorists are left-wingers, but HYDRA is still a fascist organisation."

"But why attack us?" Duncan wanted to know. "Are you sure they were just after this experimental rig, Tony?"

Tony shook his head, but the Doctor said, "It could be something more. After all, the Daleks are the ultimate fascists! They could have established contact with this HYDRA organisation years ago, for all we know. The Daleks can time-travel too, you know."

"Well," said Daniel, "The guy I stunned with my zat-gun should be coming round about now. Let's ask him!"

The man was indeed stirring and looking about him. As the League approached he sat up, spat in their direction, then clapped his hand to his mouth as if eating something. "Don't!" yelled the Doctor, but too late. The man snarled "Hail HYDRA!" then fell back, dead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Five: Quidditch and Conundra**

_Hogwarts Castle, May 21st, 2011_

The news that Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts had spread like wildfire, of course, as had the debate about the reason for his return. Muggle-born students found themselves in high demand for explanations as to what exactly this 'United Nations' was. Still, the novelty of having muggles in the school was secondary to the return of the Chosen One.

However, the prospect of that morning's Quidditch match soon eclipsed even the presence of the legendary Boy Who Lived, so the curious or admiring stares soon faded – at least as far as Harry was concerned. On the other hand, Tony, Duncan, Daniel, Dante and the Doctor all attracted a fair amount of interest among the older female students, while Ziva found herself being appraised by any number of the male ones.

There had been some changes to the staff since Harry had last been at the school. He knew, of course, that Andromeda Tonks had been persuaded (once young Ted was old enough) to join the staff as Charms teacher and head of Slytherin House. Aurora Sinistra had replaced the late Filius Flitwick as head of Ravenclaw. But Harry had not met the new Potions teacher and head of Gryffindor, a surprisingly youthful, dark-haired muggle-born named Jessica Crow, a descendant of the famous Victorian mystic and demon-hunter Titus Crow – Harry vaguely remembered her as being two or three years below him at Hogwarts. Andromeda and Jessica both assured him that the once-bitter feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin was now simply a keen and, if not friendly then certainly respectful, rivalry.

The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had joined the school only two years before, and was unusual in a number of respects. She was a compact woman in her early thirties with red hair, a sweet face marred by a livid burn scar, and an artificial left arm made from ivory. When Minerva introduced her as 'Professor Rosenberg', she greeted Harry with a smile that was belied by the permanent sadness in her eyes, saying "Good to meet you." in a soft but definite American accent.

More was revealed, however, when Minerva tried to introduce her to Dante. He cut the Headmistress short with a curt, "We've met." Then turned to Professor Rosenberg and said "It's been a while, Willow. I'm sorry for your losses."

"Are you, Dante?" she asked with a tinge of bitterness, "You never liked Slayers, after all."

He held up a hand and shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, Willow. The Slayer – and one is growing up in Vie de Marlie as we speak – is there to kill vampires. Vampires are penny-ante, not worth my time, and the Slayers did OK when they stuck to dealing with them. But your pal Buffy, she got involved with guys who were out of the Slayer's league. She pissed off some of the big guys, maybe Samael himself, and things got out of hand. What happened with the Daleks was stupid and tragic, but it set the balance right. Same thing nearly happened to Angel."

Tears came into Willow's eyes. "Angel," she murmured, "We betrayed him, thought he'd gone over. Buffy said after that he should have trusted us – told us his plan – but Xander and I thought that maybe _we_ should have trusted _him_. Where is he now?"

"Gone," Dante told her. "All Hell broke loose in LA that night. Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn took on Wolfram and Hart's entire army. They managed to hang on until I got there with my people and the Brotherhood of the Sword. Harry Dresden got the White Council to pitch in as well, before the end.

But it was too late for Gunn and Angel. Spike and Illyria went underground, demon-hunting until 2008 – the Daleks got them both.

"What happened to your face and arm, Willow?"

She shrugged. "Dalek. I was trying to shield myself and Buffy at the same time and it didn't work out so well. Xander got between me and most of the shot, but not quite enough. He got killed, I got left for dead. I got lucky, I guess."

She obviously didn't want to say any more, and Dante left it at that.

The Quidditch match was as good a one as Harry had seen. Both sides played hard but fair – a sign, he thought, of the new regime at Slytherin. The Gryffindor Chasers were excellent, but were often countered by the exceptional skill of the Slytherin Beaters. For almost the whole match, the scores were tied until the Gryffindor Seeker just pipped her Slytherin counterpart to the Snitch.

With the House championship once again firmly in the hands of Gryffindor House, there was a generally celebratory atmosphere to lunch and the afternoon. The League wandered around the school, exploring some little nooks and crannies that Harry remembered well. He showed them the Room of Requirement and regaled them with reminiscences of Dumbledore's Army. Then, leaving them to explore, he slipped away on a private mission.

The Head's Study had changed since Harry's last visit. Gone were the odd devices and higgledy-piggledy shelves, the worn leather chairs. Instead there were bookcases of neatly-ordered volumes, chintz-covered armchairs and a sofa, and display cabinets full of china. But the portraits of former Heads were still there, and Harry approached the one above and behind the desk.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Harry as he used to look, with bright blue eyes over his glasses, and a kindly smile.

"Welcome back, my friend," he said, "I am told by Minerva that you are here on business both urgent and dire?"

"Business as usual, for me, I'd reckon!" Harry grinned. It was odd to be speaking to this man as one adult to another. He quickly outlined the situation, and asked if there was anything Dumbledore could tell him that might help.

The old wizard sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him.

"There are, of course, many legends as to how the Founders met." He began. "There are equally many tales concerning the Doctor, both in our world and the muggle one. However, the role of the Doctor in bringing the Founders together seems to have been a secret they kept. These Daleks are completely unknown to me, except at second hand. They appear to be a singularly ruthless and dangerous breed.

"In the matter of the Founders' homes, I can perhaps be of more help. The continuing presence of Helga Hufflepuff in her home has been known to every Head of the school, as has her role in providing victuals for our students. The relative ease with which you gained admittance to her home is typical of her open-hearted nature. The others will be more challenging.

"Ravenclaw will doubtless wish to test intellectual prowess in various ways. Be prepared for riddles and puzzles, rather than simple tests of knowledge.

"Gryffindor presents different problems. Obviously, valour, honour and loyalty will be to the fore in any tests. Virtues in which you have always excelled, Harry, as you have in kindness and modesty.

"As to Salazar's Keep, it is a place of fear. Voldemort himself once sought the place, looking for yet more power. Whatever he found there caused him to flee empty-handed. You will face the darkest of dark magic at that grim fortress.

"As to your new colleagues, I can say little. The muggles are in large part unknown to me, of course, though Mr Stark was often mentioned in the muggle press in the days when I could and did read their newspapers. He appears to be a man of integrity at least.

"Dante, son of Sparda, did some useful but unpleasant work for the Order of the Phoenix. He is trustworthy and powerful, but at times ruthless to a degree you may not be comfortable with.

"The Doctor is a legend. He is a man of power who displays no power. A being of nigh-infinite knowledge. Some speak of him as a healer, a saviour, a teacher. Others fear him as a scourge and avenger. Have a care in your dealings with him, Harry. He sees things differently from the rest of us, and his choices and actions will often reflect that difference."

Dumbledore paused, then said quietly: "There is something else, Harry. The nature and details of your mission are a closely-held secret, but there are eyes and ears in the worlds who see more than others. The attack upon your League by muggle terrorists may have been, as Mr Stark suggests, an attempt to seize his experimental vehicle, or it may not. It is unfortunate you were unable to question any of your attackers. Beware of further attempts to thwart your mission, from other sources.

"More is at stake here than you know, Harry. There is a balance between worlds, a balance of which ours is the fulcrum or keystone. The sudden alteration in that balance that would be brought about by any failure on the part of the League could be disastrous. Yet your success could also tip the scales too far another way, if certain things do or do not happen.

"Trust your instincts, Harry. I can safely say no more."

After dinner, in search of a little downtime, Harry took the League into Hogsmeade, to the Three Broomsticks, where Rosmerta greeted him like an old friend. The bar was quiet tonight – there was an important Quidditch International on the wizard wireless – so Harry felt confident in telling his colleagues what Dumbledore had told him. It was decided that they would make the attempt on Rowena's Manse the following day.

_Interlude: The Gates of Hell_

The tattooed man behind the bar leaned across to his customer and spoke in a low, growling voice:

"A job's a job, sister, do you want it or not? It'll get you extra credit with my people."

The woman looked at him over her glasses: "Oh, I'm quite prepared to take the job," she purred, "but it isn't my usual line. I'd just like to know what's so important."

The man grinned, and there was a sudden gleam of red light behind his dark glasses. "Sometimes, babe, you're too inquisitive for your own good. Let's just say that _somebody_thinks the balance has swung too far the wrong way. We've got a chance to help push it back our way. Hence the reward. What do you say?"

"Oh, I'm in." She replied. "Anything for a laugh!"

_Rowena's Manse, May 22nd, 2011_

"That wall," said Ziva flatly, "was not on the map!"

"I suspect it's there for our benefit." Duncan told her.

The wall was about twenty feet high, grey and as smooth as glass. Even Dante couldn't leap it, and Harry had tried to climb it, but the Sticking Charm he'd put on his hands and feet was defeated by the wall. He assumed that the same would apply to a Reductor curse, or any attempt to apparate beyond the wall.

"There may be a gate or door, or something." Daniel hazarded.

"If not in the front, then where?" Ziva asked.

Daniel shrugged. "We won't know if we don't look."

In the end, it was decided that Dante and Daniel would go around the wall one way, Ziva and Duncan another. Harry was to stay put and try to find out anything he could with magic, while Tony and the Doctor would go back to the vehicle and see if its sensors could reveal anything.

Harry had worked on the wall for about ten minutes, finding out that the house was definitely there, but not much else, when he was interrupted by a low-pitched female voice.

"Oh, how sweet! A wizard in the mix. This will be more fun than I thought!"

He spun to find himself facing a tall woman clad entirely in skin-tight black. She had a sensuous figure, black hair piled high on her head, a sharp-featured but attractive face, and considered him through a pair of square-framed glasses.

"Who are you?" he asked.

She stepped toward him with an exaggerated catwalk slink: "That hardly matters, dearie." she purred. "Now be a decent chap and stand still. I'll make it quick for you."

Suddenly, her hair rose from her head in a writhing mass that formed itself into a giant fist which crashed down against Harry's deftly-cast shield. Harry was good at shield charms, and the woman staggered back, her hair writhing in disarray. Belatedly, Harry realised she was now stark naked. Then the hair settled back, actually forming the outfit.

"Oh, you cheeky boy!" she said crossly. "You saw a lot more than you were supposed to remember!"

"An Umbra Witch, as I live and breathe!" Harry said. "I was told you were extinct."

"If you know that," she told him, "then you'll know you can't win!"

She produced a gun from nowhere and fired. But Harry had been fast all his life, and wasn't there when the bullet arrived. He cast a Stun spell, which his opponent dodged easily. This sort of thing went on for a few seconds. Harry was playing for time. He knew that the sound of a shot would bring his allies running. The witch was equipped with four guns, one in each hand, and one strapped to each calf. She was able to fire all of them at will, so Harry spent a lot of time dodging and shielding, but he cast the occasional hex, just to keep her honest.

Then her hair lashed out again, this time coiling round his ankle and tumbling him to the ground. "Gotcha!" she crowed, producing a sword and slashing down at him. There was a clang, and Harry was looking up at Dante, who had parried the cut with his broadsword. Without missing a beat, the witch attacked the demon-hunter with a flurry of cuts. By rights, Dante's five-foot blade should have been too heavy for fencing, but he handled it as lightly as a foil, parrying every strike before riposting with a deft pass that sent the witch's sword flying.

She backflipped away from him and began to fire. But Dante, for all his size, was faster and more agile than she was. He dodged every round, then pulled out his own guns. He fired four times, and at each shot, one of the witch's guns was sent spinning away. Disarmed she ran at Dante, her hair beginning to stir again, but was stopped short when she found one of his guns an inch from her right eye.

"Bayonetta." He said quietly. "I never thought we'd actually meet."

"Dante. You exceed your reputation." She acknowledged. "If I'd known you were along on this jolly, I wouldn't have taken the job."

"Job?" He asked. "Someone hired you to attack us? Who?"

She shrugged. "The usual people, in the usual way. They said they'd accept your deaths at double the value of my normal sacrifices. Something about tipping the balance back?"

"Typical." Dante growled. "The entire Multiverse is this far from being wiped clean of all life, and Lucifer is playing for his own advantage!"

"That's what people like him do." The Doctor put in. "By the way, Bayonetta, thanks for locking us in the truck! Took me a little while to get us out, but here we are!"

Her eyes widened. "The last TimeLord!" Her manner was no longer casual. "If you're part of this, then it's not just a little tweak to the balance! I have to tell..."

"Rodin?" Dante interrupted. "You tell him, Bayonetta. Tell him this as well; I've left him alone until now, because he hasn't bothered me. But if he starts being a pain in my ass, I'm gonna pay a visit to that sleazy bar of his and kick _his_ass all the way back to Inferno! He knows I can do it without breaking a sweat.

"Now get out of here, Bayonetta, before I decide you're a pain in the ass, too!"

"Now that's unfair, Dante." She was purring again. "I do my job, and you do yours. This was just a mix-up, it won't happen again."

She dropped the League an ironic curtsey, drew a circle in the air with her finger, stepped through it, and vanished.

"What the Hell was that all about?" Duncan demanded.

"Hell just about sums it up." Harry replied. "That was an Umbra Witch. I was told they were extinct."

"Not quite," Dante told him. "There are still a few Lumen Sages around, too."

"Shadow and Light," said the Doctor, "Life needs both."

"Um, I hate to interrupt the philosophical discussion," Tony said, "But we have a gate, people."

A tall, arched gate had indeed appeared in the wall. It was made of dark wood, had no apparent lock or handle, but a large, silver image of the moon was set into the middle of it, at eye-height for Harry. As he looked at it, a face appeared and smiled at him.

"Welcome, student of Gryffindor, the steadfast in battle." The face spoke in clear, feminine voice. "Though not of Ravenclaw's house, thou art welcome here, and those who go with thee. All who seek knowledge and wisdom may enter the Manse. But we must have a care, lest those unready for knowledge come here to their harm. I must therefore ask of thee a token, a proof of readiness."

"What do you want of me?" Harry asked, a little nervously.

"A mere bagatelle," the face replied, "nought more than the form of thy guardian spirit."

Harry grinned with relief, this was one of his favourite spells, and one he had always been good at. He raised his wand and invoked "_Expecto__Patronum!_"

It seemed to Harry that as the years passed, and he gathered more happy memories, the silver stag became ever larger and more magnificent. Certainly the beast that now trotted toward the gate was almost twice the size of the first one he had summoned.

The gate seemed to agree, for its smile broadened as it cried, "Token accepted! A worthy summoning indeed, Gryffindor! Thou art a credit to thine house. Enter now freely, and all that go with thee. But know that thou shalt be tested further."

The gate, and the wall, vanished, and the League could now see the Manse and its gardens as they had been on the map. The Patronus turned and trotted back to Harry, vanishing as always just before he could touch its muzzle.

"OK," he said, "let's go!"

The gardens were laid out formally around two broad paths. One led from the gate down to the main door of the house - this was the one the League was on. The other ran across the gardens for side to side, between two smaller doors in the wings of the building. Where the paths crossed, there was a circular area with a statue in the centre.

As they walked, the Doctor said to Harry, "From what I know about Patronus Charms..."

"Which would be pretty much everything!" Harry interrupted with a grin.

"Touche!" the Doctor grinned back, "Anyway, by the look of that stag, you must have a pretty happy life!"

Harry thought about Ginny, and the kids. He thought about Ron and Hermione and their kids, about Molly and Arthur, about young Teddy, his godson, about Neville and Luna and... "Yeah," he told the Doctor, "I'd say that!"

The Doctor nodded, and though he was smiling, there was a sadness in his eyes as he told Harry. "That's good. In my line, I meet a lot of needy, broken people. It's nice to know there are whole people around, sometimes."

By this time, they had reached the statue. They started to walk round it, and without transition, they were back by the gate.

"What the Hell!" said Daniel.

The Doctor was scanning around with his sonic screwdriver. "We haven't been time-shifted." He concluded. "It was a spatial shift – a teleport."

Harry levelled his wand along the path: "_Prior__Incantatem!_"

The League watched as insubstantial images of themselves tried to walk around the statue. The statue suddenly glowed, and the images of the League vanished and reappeared next to their substantial selves, then faded.

"Whoa!" said Tony, "That was neat!"

"Ducky would love one of those!" Ziva added.

"Who's Ducky?" Duncan asked.

"Our forensic pathologist." Ziva explained.

"It's a forensic charm." Harry allowed. "It shows the last spell cast in the area, if the caster or their wand is still about. Obviously, the spell that sent us back came from that statue, so let's take a closer look at it."

They had been walking as they talked, and now were close to the statue. It was a simple one, a marble Grecian column, supporting a globe on which was perched a large eagle, facing the gate. As the League gathered around, the bird stirred and looked around at them.

"Be ye welcome, Seekers." It said in a harsh but clear voice. "Ye may seek freely such wisdom as can be found in the Garden, but if ye seek admittance to the Manse itself, then ye must answer to me. Do ye accept the test?"

"The Key will be in the house." Duncan pointed out.

"We accept." Ziva said, cutting short any further debate.

"It is well," said the eagle. "Three riddles have I, and truth I seek. Here is my first: _I__have__eyes,__yet__I__see__not.__I__have__a__tongue,__yet__I__speak__not.__I__have__a__soul,__yet__do__no__worship.__I__am__made__to__walk,__yet__can__go__nowhere__alone.__What__am__I?_"

Harry blinked. He had a terrible feeling that the others were looking to him, but he had no idea what the bird was talking about. Then Duncan laughed.

"What a chestnut!" he said. "It's a boot!"

"Truth accepted!" The eagle declared. "Thou wouldst be surprised how many wizards stumble upon a muggle riddle.

"Here is my second: _Which__came__first,__the__phoenix__or__the__fire?_"

It was Harry's turn to smile. He knew this one, Luna had had to answer it to get them into the Ravenclaw Common Room the day of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"A circle has no beginning." He answered.

"Truth accepted." Said the eagle again. "Here is my last: _Death's__gift__to__the__living,__three__they__be.__Down__through__the__ages,__passed__hand__to__hand,__used__well__or__ill.__Lost__and__then__found,__stolen__and__won.__Now__they__lie__each__in__their__final__place._"

Harry knew, all too well, the answer to this one. "The Deathly Hallows," he said, "The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak."

"Truth accepted." The eagle flared its wings. "Ye may walk the path, but ye must also satisfy the Door-Keeper."

The door was of the same dark wood as the gate had been, but the image set into it was a stylised sun. As they approached a face appeared in it and it spoke in a rich bass:

"Travellers, before ye enter here, there be one final assurance to be given. One at least of your number must have studied at the school Ravenclaw helped found. Therefore, rede me this: _Four__Houses__make__the__school.__Four__elements__make__the__World.__By__chance__or__by__design,__each__House__is__with__one__element__aligned,__but__which__with__which?_"

Harry turned to the Doctor, the only other person here who knew much about Hogwarts. "Any thoughts?"

The Doctor shrugged: "I can tell you the characteristics - the _humours_– that go with each element. But you'd know more than me about the Houses and what they stand for."

"Well," Harry mused, "Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, chivalrous and honourable, but we can also be hot-tempered and impatient, take silly risks."

"Choleric," The Doctor said, "Fire, then."

"Ravenclaws are clever, more than anything else."

"Air is related to the intellect."

"Hufflepuffs are hard-working, loyal, kind-hearted, solid types, so Earth, yes?"

"That would do it." The Doctor allowed. "Which leaves Water for Slytherin. Does that work?"

"Well...It's hard to be fair, I was feuding with Slytherins all the time I was at school." Harry admitted. "But they're adaptable, make the most of any situation they're in. They also tend to be a bit grim and gloomy a lot of the time. Slytherins never seem to laugh much – or not in a happy way."

"Hmm – melancholic," The Doctor nodded. "Definitely Water, I'd say. Want to try it?"

"Unless anyone else can do better?" Harry asked. There was head-shaking and some shrugs, and Dante said, "Just do it, Harry!"

Harry turned to the Door and gave the answers they'd come up with. The Door-Keeper smiled at him. "Thou art correct, student of Gryffindor, the mighty in arms. Clever is he who can find the answer, but wise is he who consults with friends to do so! Enter, and may ye find that which you seek!"

_Interlude: The Control Room_

"The hu-mans failed in their miss-ion."

"No. They succ-eeded in what we requ-ired of them. We know that the Doc-tor is here. We know that he is hunt-ing the Keys. We know he will come here, with the wiz-ard."

"What of Hy-dra?"

"They be-lieve we are like them. That we think as they do. They may be use-ful ag-ain. When they are no lon-ger use-ful, they will be ext-er-min-ated."

The League had decided that the best place to start the search would be the library. That was not hard to find, being quite the largest room in the house. However, it was also divided into several sections, and the gates between each one were locked.

"This stuff," Harry gestured around. "Is pretty much the same as the Library at Hogwarts. Not what I'd have expected for advanced students from Ravenclaw!"

"If I know Rowena – and I did – the more advanced stuff will be behind these gates, and you'll need to pass a test to get in there." The Doctor said.

"I keep forgetting you knew them." Harry shook his head. "What was Rowena like?"

"We didn't get on." The Doctor shrugged. "She was very clever, for a human, but she was still human. She kept pestering me to teach her what I know, and was angry when I wouldn't. Couldn't accept that no human mind could hold that much knowledge – she'd have burned."

"Well, this test isn't all that hard." Duncan remarked, "Look!"

There was an oval ebony plaque set into the gate, with a series of sliver ellipses inlaid into it. At certain points in each ellipse there was a sort of socket set into the plaque, and another, larger socket more or less in the middle. Beneath the plaque was a tray in which reposed a number of precious and semi-precious stones. Duncan picked up a large piece of golden amber.

"This will be the Sun." He said, and fitted it into the central socket. "The others will be the planets. I expect this little fire-opal here will be Mercury." He slotted it in, and they began to work outwards. Venus was a sapphire, Earth an emerald, Mars a ruby, Jupiter a large amethyst. Saturn was represented by a tiger's-eye stone, Uranus malachite, Neptune blue topaz and Pluto onyx. It took a little while to sort out the various gas giants, and of course Daniel felt constrained to point out that according to current thinking, Pluto is no longer considered a planet! Then he shook his head.

"This isn't right anyway," he opined, "This place was built in what, the Tenth Century? Even if this Ravenclaw lived more than a hundred years, she couldn't have known about anything further out than Saturn, and people thought then that the Sun went round the Earth, and counted the Moon as a planet! Uranus and Neptune weren't discovered until the 19th Century, and Pluto until 1930. So how could she have made this accurate a map? Even the elliptical orbits are correct!"

The Doctor shook his head. "You of all people should know better than that, Daniel. The Ancients, the Asgard and the Gou'a'ould all knew about the Solar System. The Druids knew that the Earth was a sphere and that it went round the Sun. All that lore was there for the learning, if you knew where to look, and Rowena did." He gestured at the plaque. "This, though, would have been quite a puzzle a thousand years ago – you'd have needed to have read a lot of ancient texts to get it right, and no muggle could have done it. It's just easy for you lot, because you've all had 20th Century educations!"

Harry hadn't thought of that, and couldn't help laughing. Yet the idea that the brilliant Rowena Ravenclaw had set what was a difficult puzzle to her, only for it to be no problem for any muggle a thousand years later was somehow disturbing.

Tony looked at him shrewdly. "I guess a lot of wizards still underestimate muggles, right?"

Harry nodded. "I keep hoping we'll knock it off before we regret it!" He said. "I was raised in the muggle world, and I'm damn sure that Voldemort would have had a nasty shock if he'd won our war and gone on to attack it!"

This section of the library contained fewer books than the previous one, though the shelves were stuffed with old books and scrolls. But there were several large lecterns containing some very impressive volumes. One of them was half the height of a man, it lay open on the lectern, and as Ziva approached it she realised that the pages were not paper or parchment, but thin sheets of metal, and that the characters were enamelled onto it in glorious colours. She looked closer, then studied it intensely. The Doctor noted her concentration and came over:

"Found something?" he asked.

"No," she said, "Well, yes, but not what we're looking for. These characters – they look like Hebrew, and so does the language. I can almost read them. It's frustrating, I feel so close to understanding what's written here, but... What book is this, do you know?"

The Doctor squinted at the book. "I haven't seen this one before, but the TARDIS translation matrix lets me read it. This is Lemurian, which was the ancestral tongue of Atlantis, and the Twelve Tribes originally came from there. That's what Noah's flood was all about, you know. This book is the _Lemurian__Chronicles_. This particular section tells how the Sarkon Thongor and his friend Shangoth escaped from the Ultimate Sacrifice and killed seven out of the Nine Wizards of Zaar. Fascinating stuff!"

"So my people originally came from Lemuria?" asked Ziva. The Doctor nodded. "When Lemuria sank, the refugees came to Atlantis, which was a colony of theirs. Then when Atlantis went down, some of them mingled with the Mesopotamian civilisations, while others went further North and mixed in with the Hyperborean and Numenorean peoples.

"This is a room of lost history, I think. All the things that have happened and that the human race has forgotten, or only remembers as legend."

"Well that explains this one!" Daniel called. "But it's kinda weird. The script is one I found in the Atlantis database – the other Atlantis, the city of the Ancients – it belongs to the Quendi, a race the Ancients encountered and were friendly with until they disappeared. But the language is a very corrupt and debased form of Ancient."

"That," said Dante slowly, "Is the Red Book of Westmarch. The script is Elvish – the Quendi is what the Elves called themselves in their own language. The language is Westron, the Common Tongue of Middle-Earth, or North-West Europe, millennia ago. We still speak Westron in Vie de Marlie as a ceremonial language, kind of in the same way the Roman Church still uses Latin for some things.

There's a copy of the Red Book in the Great Library of the Temple of the Sword in Vie de Marlie. It used to belong to my father. He had two copies that he'd found in an ancient ruin, but he gave one to some English professor before I was born. Guy translated it and made a novel out of it – _Lord__of__the__Rings_, he called it – and made a fortune! Dad should've asked him for a cut!"

Tony choked, there was a treasured copy of the three-volume _Lord__of__the__Rings_ on his bookshelf at home, and he had all the DVDs of the films!

"Never could get on with that book!" Duncan muttered. "What's next?"

"This," said Tony grimly, "and I don't like it. Not even a little bit!"

The gate to the next section was nothing more or less than a mirror. A large, full-length mirror with an elaborate frame of black metal. But the glass reflected nothing, just a deep blackness. In front of the mirror was a round mosaic set into the floor. The image showed a Janus-face, one side of which was white, the other black. On a stand nearby stood an open book, Daniel looked at the Latin script:

"Within lies the Lore of Darkness," He read, "To study this without ill befalling requires both wisdom and strength. Only they who can look into the Mirror of Raef without becoming what they behold may pass this door."

"I don't like this, either, Tony." Harry agreed. "It reminds me of the Mirror of Erised. The mirror that shows you what you desire most in the world."

"Doesn't sound too bad," remarked Ziva.

Harry snorted. "You'd think, wouldn't you? But I wasted days in front of that mirror, gazing at my dead parents. I was told later that people have wasted away or gone mad in front of it. We need to be careful."

"Well, we have to do it," Tony pointed out, "Who should go first?"

"Don't think it matters," Dante told him, then without another word, he stepped onto the mosaic. An impenetrable shadow sprang up around him.

_The glass in front of Dante was no longer dark. The reflection in it looked a lot like him, but the white-blond hair was slicked back rather than loose, the figure wore a blue coat rather than a red one, and carried in his hand a sheathed katana._

"_Vergil?" asked Dante. The figure gave a cold smile._

"_So, little brother, it's come to this?" he sneered, "Babysitting a rag-tag of humans on a mission to save the world? With our father's power, we could have swept these Daleks away like bugs!"_

"_Or reduced the world to ashes!" Dante retorted. "Our father was a demon, Vergil. He was born to that power and knew how and when to use it. More importantly, he knew when not to use it. We had a human mother, we're not meant to have that kind of power."_

"_Is that what you're afraid of?" Vergil laughed contemptuously. "Losing your humanity? That was the point, Dante! To get rid of the human in us, to become like our father. He ruled, Dante, and the demons never came near our home while he did. You and I, with Sparda's power, could have ruled the whole world, and kept it safe from demons."_

"_But would it have been safe from us?" Dante asked, then shook his head. "Our humanity is part of us, Vergil, and that power would have corrupted us. _

"_No," Dante rested his hand over his heart, "What we have of our father is here, Vergil, and it's all we need of him. You were the one that was afraid – afraid that the power you had wouldn't be enough."_

_Vergil__bowed__his__head,__and__the__mirror__vanished._

Dante stepped forward into a larger room, then turned. The mirror was back, but he could see through it, the other members of the League were staring at him. He gave them a thumbs-up, saw them acknowledge it, then the wooden back of the mirror was there.

The fact that Dante had got through safely was not encouraging to Ziva. The demon-hunter had abilities she couldn't fully measure, whereas she was just an ordinary person – the most ordinary in the League, she thought.

_Then she was facing herself in the mirror. Herself, yet not herself. A Ziva in military fatigues, with short-cropped hair and a scarred, bitter, cruel face._

"_You left us!" Other-Ziva snarled. "Deserted your family, abandoned your people for an easy life in America! Coward!"_

"_My family," Ziva snapped back, "used me. Used me as a weapon, as bait, as anything but a daughter. If I have a father, his name is Gibbs. If I have brothers, they are Tony and Tim. If I have a sister, she is Abby._

"_As to my people, they've become so used to being in danger that they manufacture threats where there aren't any, then cry justification when they make those threats real by their actions. Hated and despised for centuries, we are now the haters and despisers._

"_I do what I do now because that is my calling – to serve and protect those who can't protect themselves. That's not cowardice, or heroism, it's what I do!"_

Her shadow-self had no defence against her passion, and the mirror vanished.

_Duncan was face-to-face with Conor who smiled sadly._

"_Forgotten who we are?" He asked. "Forgotten our purpose? The prize? That there can be only one? Do you not care who takes it, cousin?"_

_Duncan shook his head. "There can never be only one," he said, "New Immortals are born in every generation – or do you want me to behead children? The Prize is a sham, Conor, meant to keep us fighting each other, to stop us living forever and working together. Let it be, cousin. When you gave me your Quickening to help me overcome Jacob Kell, that was one of the things I learned."_

"That was weird!" He said to Ziva on the other side.

"No," She said, "It was sad."

_Tony saw himself pale, drawn, pouch-eyed and rumpled._

"_Well?" His reflection demanded in a drunken snarl. "Is the monk's life worth it? Do you get a shred of thanks for all the good works? Medals for saving the world? Will good ol' Dad ever be proud of us? Do you really want to be able to think and feel about it all?"_

"_I'm glad one of us grew up!" Tony snapped. "Being rich means nothing if you don't make it meaningful. Being smart gets boring when you only use your mind to amuse yourself. Numbing your mind doesn't make it better, just wastes it. As for Dad, I've met someone who knew him before I was born, I know what kind of man he was. He knew I was better than he would ever be, and everything he did after I was born was designed to help me be the best I could be!"_

Daniel came through very shortly after Tony. "I saw myself Ascended, again." He said to nobody in particular. "It's still nothing I regret." He went over to the bookshelves.

_Harry saw himself in the mirror. Himself in green and silver Slytherin robes. A Harry who exuded arrogance and whose eyes gleamed red._

"_You soft-headed idiot!" The reflection told him. "You chose wrong from the start – whining 'Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin!'. The Hat said you could be great in Slytherin, and it was right. You could have had allies, useful allies, not needy or stupid friends to hold you back. The Dark Lord would've got the Stone, would've risen again that year. The Master was no fool, he'd have seen your potential, seen through the lie of the Prophecy. He'd have protected you, taught you, made you his right hand while he took over our world. _

"_He'd have told you his deepest secret and then, when the time was right, you could have killed him and taken his place! Minister of Magic, at no-one's beck and call, giving commands instead of taking them!"_

_Harry shook his head – this was his worst nightmare. He'd always felt that there were dangerous similarities between himself and Voldemort. Now he saw that it was true, how one false step on the way could have made him the next Dark Lord. He remembered how easily the Unforgivable Curses had come to him, how Dark magic had always held a strange fascination for him. It would have been so easy..._

"_Bollocks!" He said loudly. "It wouldn't have mattered which House I was in, Voldemort would still have killed me, or I him, eventually. But Dumbledore said it's our choices that define us. Riddle made his, I made mine – either of us could just as easily have chosen the other way, or a completely different one. We could both have stayed in the muggle world, after all!_

"_But there's one thing you've forgotten. One other thing Riddle and I had in common. Despite the fact that we both knew that one of us was destined to kill the other, we kept on seeking each other out, when we both could have run. Neither of us ever gave in to fear, nor ever will!"_

The Doctor was the last to step onto the mosaic.

_The man facing him had a rugged, hard-bitten face, and wore formal dark TimeLord robes. The Doctor stared, stricken._

"_What's the matter, Doctor?" sneered the Valeyard. "Do you not recognise yourself? Or is it that you don't want to acknowledge that I can exist?"_

"_You can't." The Doctor said. "You never really existed. You were a construct, pulled out of a possible time-stream by the Council to trap me. A distillation of all the evil I refused to admit I had inside me, the Master called you."_

"_So true." The Valeyard spread his hands. "And all so unnecessary, as well. After all, Doctor, you've never found it necessary to bottle up your evil. Whole planets, whole species destroyed in your little crusades, and all for what? So the weak and pathetic can survive to worship you?"_

"_It's not like that!" The Doctor protested. "I never wanted any of that to happen! I always gave them a chance!"_

"_A chance?" The Valeyard laughed. "What chance did you give the Nestene Consciousness? The Sycorax? The Racnoss? The Slitheen? Did the Family of Blood deserve what you did to them? Do the Zarbi deserve to be slaves and cattle to the Menoptera? The Face of Boe gave the last of his long life to you. The Carrionites are forever trapped, so are the Gelth._

"_And it's never enough, is it? Our own people, the TimeLords, are gone, locked away outside Space and Time, along with their mortal enemies. Or is it your mortal enemies? Would the Daleks have gone to war with the TimeLords if you hadn't interfered with them so often?_

"_If you'd obeyed the law, stayed out of things, so much tragedy would never have happened."_

"_And so many races would have died!" The Doctor said angrily. "Humanity, the Menoptera, the Ood. The ones that died, I never killed them. Each one of them had the chance to go away, to find worlds and places they could be in peace. But they chose to kill, to conquer instead."_

"_Because that was their nature!" The Valeyard snapped. "Who gave you the right to judge?"_

"_Everyone judges." The Doctor said heavily. "With no more right, or less, than anyone else. The choices I make come from what I see. I see Time. I see what's fixed and what's in flux. I see where things might lead, and if I can, I make things better. All intelligent beings have that option – it's not a right or a duty, it's part of what we are._

"_You? You're just a shadow. A shadow of my doubts, my worry that I don't always make the right decision. My guilt about the choices other people make when I'm around. Choices I don't agree with or don't like. But I can't do anything about other's choices, and I have to live with my doubts, or they'll paralyse me, like you're trying to do!"_

"You were in there a while!" Daniel said to the Doctor. "So was Harry. How come?"

"Well, you know, I've seen a lot more than anybody else," the Doctor explained, "But Harry's probably seen less than the rest of you."

"Makes sense," Ziva allowed. "But I don't understand the test. None of us had much trouble with it. I thought it was going to be some ultimate test of character, but it was just sad, for me."

"But none of us are kids." Duncan said. "The people this test was meant for were youngsters, teenagers or in their twenties. Students who'd lived for knowledge and study.

"All of us have been around a bit. We've all encountered our fears, our dark sides, in real life. But Rowena's students probably had a very rose-coloured view of themselves. We all know how difficult it is to deal with other people's criticisms when you're young. How much worse must it be to have all your faults paraded in front of you by yourself?"

"Ouch!" Dante shuddered. "That's just sadistic!"

"Or sensible." Harry put in. "I know more about magic than the rest of you, and much more about Dark magic than I ever wanted to. If you're less than absolutely sure of yourself and your own mind, then it will eat you up!"

The room was smaller than the others, but the shelves were packed, and the books seemed to watch them. Some of them quivered on the shelves, others moaned or laughed quietly while some actually whispered "_Read__me!__Read__me!__I__have__secrets__that__will__make__you__invincible!_"

"Ah!" Tony commented. "Wizard audio-books!"

"We shouldn't look at these," Harry cautioned them, "But, given that, how do we find the Key?"

"I think I have." the Doctor said, holding up a small wooden box that had been standing on a small table in one corner. It was made from rosewood, and engraved with an odd pattern of circles and lines.

"It's a pretty pattern," said Ziva doubtfully, "But how do you know it's the Key?"

The Doctor grinned. "The 'pretty pattern' is actually Gallifreyan script – my native language. It'd be like Rowena to do that, learn Gallifreyan just to show me! This says 'Greetings, Doctor, read this aloud and the box will open.'"

The box popped open, and the Doctor lifted out a scroll, which he handed to Daniel. "Can you read this?" He asked. "Because when we get to the Vault, I'm going to be busy doing my part."

Daniel examined the scroll. "This is Gou'a'ould," he said, "the Tok'Ra dialect. I can read it."

"Good!" The Doctor paused a moment, then said, "That just leaves one question. How and where did Rowena learn Gallifreyan?"

"Is it so important?" Ziva asked.

"Yes!" The Doctor replied vehemently. "I Time-Locked the War away. The Daleks, the TimeLords, Skaro, Gallifrey, all of it. There should only have been one way for Rowena to learn that language, and I didn't teach her!

"Which means," He went on heavily, "That at least one other TimeLord escaped. Either that or the Time-Lock is failing, and if that happens, we're all as good as dead!"

"Well, the answer might be there," said Dante, pointing behind the Doctor. A section of bookshelf had vanished, revealing a stone wall. At about eye-height a plaque of white marble was set into the wall, the marble was inscribed with more Gallifreyan script.

"That must have been a spell linked to the box," Harry hazarded, "Rowena knew that only you could open it, Doctor, so this must be a message for you."

The Doctor nodded slowly, his eyes canning the plaque. Then he began to read aloud in English.

_To my old ally, the Doctor,_

_It will please you to know that you were right. I now know all that you know, and the knowledge eats away at my poor human brain. I have contrived a way to forget the most of it, but before I do, I leave these messages for you._

_You will already have read the first, and retrieved my Key. That you would not have done so without grave cause I am certain. Use it well._

_Beyond this wall you will find my teacher, and the tomb of his partner. Do what you must, according to the way of your people. Lay your hand upon this marble to open the way._

_Farewell,_

_Rowena Ravenclaw_

There was a silence, then the Doctor turned to Harry.

"How did Rowena die, do you know?" He asked urgently.

"Yes," Harry said gravely, "I'm one of the few who does. Her daughter Helena stole her diadem and ran off. Rowena wasn't so bothered about the diadem, but she loved her daughter and wanted to see her again, so she asked Helena's lover to go and fetch her. But Helena wouldn't come. The man got angry, and ended up stabbing her to death, then he killed himself in remorse. They both haunt Hogwarts now. Helena is the Grey Lady, her lover is known as the Bloody Baron. Rowena was heartbroken, they say she died of sorrow.

"I know what you're thinking, Doctor, but Rowena was a clever and powerful witch. She would have known spells and potions that would erase all that stuff from her memory before it destroyed her."

The Doctor sighed with relief, reaching out and squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Thanks, Harry," he said quietly, "I couldn't have borne the idea that she might have died of trying to be like me. I'd have blamed myself."

"You take too much damn responsibility." Dante told him. "Whatever the Ravenclaw woman might have done to herself was her own fault, you warned her, right? Now, you'd better see what's behind that wall."

The Doctor turned and placed his hand on the plaque. Like the one that separated Diagon Alley from muggle London, the wall became an arched doorway. As the League filed through, a series of braziers lit up with clear, magical flames. The chamber was large, rising to a domed ceiling. In the centre of the tiled floor stood an old wooden cabinet, its door slightly ajar. The Doctor seemed transfixed by this, as if undecided whether or not to enter. The rest of the League spread out around the room, until Daniel called out, "Here!"

The others joined him, the Doctor moving as if her was in a trance. In a niche in the wall was a tomb of the kind they had all seen in ancient churches. A stone sarcophagus with an effigy laid on top. The effigy was of a woman, dressed in elaborate robes, with a strong-boned, handsome face. There were Gallifreyan characters carved into the wall above the niche. The Doctor stared at them, then back at the effigy, then shook his head.

"Did you know her?" asked Duncan. The Doctor pointed to the script above the niche. "That says: _Here__lies__Romanadvoratrelundar,__Lady__President__of__the__High__Council__of__Gallifrey_. If that's true – and I've got no reason to think it isn't – then yes I did. I used to call her Romana, and we travelled together for a long time, several lives ago.

"I don't recognise the body, so she must have regenerated at least once." He stretched out a hand toward the tomb, but didn't touch it. "She was assigned to help me in a task that turned out to be a betrayal, a plot. Then she travelled with me because she wanted to see more. The TimeLords eventually recalled her, but before she could return, the TARDIS fell into E-space and Romana decided to stay there.

"I knew that she'd come back, that she'd gone to Gallifrey and joined the Council. When she became President, she asked me to come home, but there was still so much more to see and do, so I carried on travelling. I heard later that she'd resigned, and disappeared. I wondered if she'd gone travelling, but the universe is a big place, and we never met up again.

"Then the Time War came, and I did go home, to fight. But I never saw or heard of Romana. I always thought she'd either died in the War or been Time-Locked with the others. Looks like I was wrong."

He turned and, this time without hesitation, strode over to the cabinet, flinging the door wide and stepping through. More braziers lit up inside, and the League crowded round the door, then slowly ventured in.

The chamber was like, and yet unlike, the Doctor's TARDIS. There were differences in the colours and shapes, and the control station the Doctor stood in front of was subtly different as well. But everything was dark, inert, covered in dust and apparently slowly crumbling. There was a dry, musty smell in the air that made Harry want to cough.

"Gone." The Doctor said softly. "A thousand years. Too long to wait."

He looked around, then spotted something on the floor, he went over and knelt by it. Tony looked over his shoulder, seeing the remains of what looked like a kind of robot, but roughly dog-shaped. A large part of it had been reduced to melted slag.

"K-9." The Doctor said in answer to the unspoken question. "Another old friend. Or at least it might be. He was so badly damaged he could only work in E-space, and I left him with Romana. She may have repaired him, or built another."

"He looks like he was hit bad." Tony commented. "What could have done that?"

"Maybe this?" Ziva was standing a few feet away, looking down at something. The others joined her and saw a heap of fragments, parts of a dome, rods, plates and grilles. Tony picked a piece up. "Not metal." He judged. "Some kind of bonded polycarbide, but incredibly old and brittle."

"Dalekanium." said the Doctor. "But what happened?"

Duncan drew his sword and poked about in the heap. A large mass of material slid aside to reveal something else, a mummified monstrosity. The thing was almost like an octopus, with shrivelled tentacles and a dried, leathery mass on top that might have been a brain or a stomach. A single, large empty socket showed where an eye had been.

"That," said the Doctor in a voice full of angry loathing, "Is the real Dalek. The thing that drives the killing machine. A mutant Kaled, genetically engineered to operate the machine and bred to hate any other living thing!"

He turned around, then rose and went over to the control station. One of the panels appeared to have lifted at some remote time. The Doctor pushed it open further, and there was another waft of the dry smell.

"So," he said, "The Dalek gets into Romana's TARDIS. Poor K-9 probably tried to fight it, and got destroyed. It would have killed Romana next. It takes a lot to kill a TimeLord – the regeneration process starts up very fast, so death has to be instant – but a Dalek can do that. Then the poor, stupid thing probably tried to control the TARDIS – the Daleks always wanted to capture one. The panel opens, and it sees into the Heart of the TARDIS. Poof! Thousands of years, an infinity of Time, all happening at once. That destroyed it. Then the TARDIS brought himself here – probably the nearest world – and Rowena found him.

"He would have been dying, wanting to pass on what he had learned, hoping that someone here could handle the knowledge. Rowena would have been able to, for a while, but she was clever enough to know when she'd reached the end of her tether. At least he didn't die alone."

"He?" Ziva asked, "Who's he?"

The Doctor sighed. "The TARDIS, this TARDIS. He was a male, you can tell it just by looking around."

"You mean the AI was male?" Tony enquired.

"No, I don't!" The Doctor snapped. "A TARDIS is a living thing! All this technology," he gestured around, "is just a means to an end. It allows one of us to travel with the TARDIS. They don't like to travel alone, and they bond with people, very strongly. When Romana died, her TARDIS started to die, too. He's gone now, all that's left is his shell, and that's crumbling.

"Let's get out of here. Harry, can you seal this place with magic, for ever?"

Harry nodded. "That I can, Doctor. They can rest here in peace together."


	6. Chapter 6

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Six: The Quickening**

_Hogwarts Castle, May 23rd 2011_

The meetings with the staff had been cordial and gone well. Sir John Steed had obtained a standard questionnaire used by the Muggle schools regulator, Ofsted, and the League took their cues from that. The questions covered such matters as basic skills teaching, class numbers, discipline, pastoral care and so forth.

The teaching staff were aware that the so-called UN inspection was actually a cover, though only McGonagall was privy to the true nature of the mission. On the whole though, they co-operated as if the work was genuine. Professor Tonks pointed out that the results would prove useful to the staff and school as a whole "Whatever anyone else might do with it." However, most of the longer-serving staff could not resist illustrating their answers with 'examples', and these examples were usually anecdotes about the less glorious misadventures and scrapes that had marked the career of a certain former pupil and his two best friends. The two worst offenders, Harry was pained to note, were the Headmistress and the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, though the Professors of Divination, History of Magic and Astronomy also put their two Knuts' worth in.

After dinner, Harry raised an issue that had been bothering him. He told the League about Dumbledore's mention of several worlds and a balance between them.

"What I don't get," he went on, "is what he means by worlds. It doesn't sound as if he's talking about other planets. As far as I know, wizards didn't learn about life on other planets until after Muggles did!"

Ziva and Duncan looked as puzzled as Harry felt, but Tony, Dante, Daniel and the Doctor exchanged some serious looks. Then Daniel shrugged and said, "They might need to know." and Dante added, "Be better if more people knew anyway." The Doctor glanced at Tony, who simply nodded. The Doctor went over to the blackboard – they were in the classroom office – and picked up a piece of chalk.

"What Professor Dumbledore was talking about was the Multiverse." He said, drawing a large circle on the board. "This is the Multiverse – not just everything that exists, but everything and anything that could possibly exist, and a lot of things that can't!"

He drew a straight line that intersected part of the circle. "Be better if I could do this in three dimensions, but still. That line represents one Universe, and a Universe is that section, that slice if you like, of the Multiverse that the beings living in it can perceive. There are millions of these slices, some close together, some far apart, some at slightly different angles, some at widely different ones. They lie alongside each other, crisscross each other and so forth. Some touch all the way along their length, some are completely separate, some cross one or many of the others at specific points. Worse, they all shift constantly as the beings in them evolve and change, or die out and new beings evolve.

"Now, millions of years ago, four of these slices moved close enough together that the beings in them could become aware of the others. One was this Universe. Another was called Inferno, or the Demon world, or the Realm of Chaos. The third we call Paradiso, or the Realm of Law, and the fourth is Purgatorio, or Limbo. Chaos and Law were always at war with one another, but to reach each other's Realms, they have to pass through either Limbo or this Universe. The rulers of Limbo are the Grey Lords or Charred Council – depending on who you talk to – and they are far too powerful for either Law or Chaos to challenge. So instead, Law and Chaos have both been trying to conquer this Universe so that they can use it as a forward base to attack the other directly."

"That's where people like me and Bayonetta come in." Dante said. "Every so often, there are invasions or infiltrations from one side or the other. Our job is to stop them, hopefully before full-scale war erupts."

Ziva shook her head. "I know a good Jewish girl should know better, but I never was much for the philosophical or mystical stuff. The whole other planes of existence thing..."

"This is actually physics, not philosophy," Tony told her.

"If anybody so much as whispers the word 'quantum'," Duncan stated, "I'll have to run out of the room screaming!"

_Interlude: the Throne Room_

The figure on the throne was in an attitude of quiet thought, but still radiated power and menace. The messenger approached and waited until his ruler deigned to notice him, then bowed low.

"All is in readiness, my Lord," he said. "The area has been sealed off by our troops and the two nearest villages have been evacuated."

"What provision has been made for the villagers?" The voice was deep and hollow behind the metal mask.

"Sire, many of them have relatives in villages outside the danger zone, who have offered them space for the duration. Others have been, according to your orders, accommodated in good hotels and boarding houses at your expense. They will, also according to orders, be compensated for any losses they suffer."

"Good, my subjects must be cared for. Now, I do not expect this League to completely contain the Daleks. Our forces will be required to engage the Daleks in order for the League to be able to complete their mission. When that happens, I will take command myself.

"Our primary mission will be to destroy any Daleks escaping from the Vault. Our secondary one will be to obtain as much Dalek technology as we can. Samples of the armour, any complete systems that can be scavenged. But understand me, General, there must be no attempt to capture an intact, functioning Dalek! These creatures are too dangerous alive, even for Doom!"

_Godric's Hold, May 24th 2011_

The castle's obvious strength did not detract from its grace and beauty. The waters of the moat were clear and sparkling, fed by two nearby streams. The walls were smooth, sheer, unclimbable and topped by ramparts hung with red and gold Gryffindor banners. Beyond them they could see a white Keep, topped with a tall, slender tower. The drawbridge was raised.

The League observed the castle from inside the ATV. This was not going to be easy.

"I don't suppose," Duncan asked Tony, "that you've got a couple of trebuchets and a battering ram stashed in the boot of this thing?"

"If by 'boot' you mean 'trunk', no." Tony allowed. "The railgun could make flinders out of that drawbridge, and probably the portcullis behind it – there's bound to be one – but that wouldn't get us across the moat.

"This, however, is where I start to earn my pay. Sit still, folks!"

Tony began to press buttons and switches, the air started to hum, and then the walls of the ATV moved outwards. Ziva, who had been puzzled at the cramped interior by comparison with the overall size of the vehicle, suddenly realised that it had been because of the thickness of the sidewalls. Various sections folded out and dropped into place, revealing yet more electronics and a substantial rack of small arms.

"Oh, I like this!" said the Doctor, "reminds me of one of those folding caravans!"

"Well," Tony explained, "this thing needs a lot of tech to be of any use in the field, but it also needs to get there. I just had to figure out a way to compact everything to make it mobile.

"Now, let's get a better look at this castle!"

He moved one of the chairs over to a console with several small screens above it and began to tap keys. The screens lit and each one showed a slightly different view of the castle, views which moved. Harry glanced out of the front window and saw four small objects flying toward the castle – metal spheres with helicopter-like rotors on the top.

"Recon Drones," Tony explained, "Smaller than the ones the military use, but with a bit more gear inside. This'll be a good field test for them."

The drones swooped over the walls and spread out. The outer ward of the castle was a steep, grassy slope, designed to give an advantage to defenders posted on the inner curtain wall, which, rather than a drawbridge, had a gate. The inner ward was a flagged courtyard, overlooked by arrow loops and murder holes which showed that passages and guardrooms must have been built into the thickness of the walls. Then there was a flight of steep steps up to the forbidding gates of the Keep itself.

That, however, was not the main problem.

"Where the bloody Hell did that lot come from?" Harry wanted to know, as the drones showed a formidable force of armed men massed in the inner and outer wards, and manning the battlements.

"Where would be around here," Duncan told him, "_when_ is actually the issue! I see Celtic warriors, Vikings, Roman legionaries, Highland clansmen, English redcoats, a couple of medieval knights and those guys in red robes."

"Wizards," said Harry, "But those robes are very old-fashioned! Doctor?"

"No they weren't pulled out of time," the Doctor replied, "I'd have felt a disturbance that big."

Tony began inputting commands, and the screens changed, flicking between various versions of the same image. "There!" He crowed, "Energy-pattern scan. These are some kind of androids or artificial beings. Each one has some kind of energy keeping it going, like bio-energy, but not quite."

"Golems, Harry?" Asked Daniel.

Harry shook his head. "Golems look like...golems. These look like people." He frowned. "There's a very old spell...I learned about it when I studied Inferi – Zombies, you'd call them – in Auror training. What it does is take a ghost and coat it in some kind of matter – anything will do – to make it a solid being again. It acts just like the person it used to be, but the spell only lasts for seven days, then you can't 'redo' the ghost for a year and a day. So whoever created these, I think the name is 'revenants', must've done it in the last week.

"Which means that we have an active, and very powerful, wizard in that Keep!"

"Whatever, it looks like we're expected to fight our way in." Ziva stated flatly. "Time to take a look at this hardware you've provided, Tony."

There was a general movement toward the weapon rack by everyone except Harry, Tony and the Doctor.

"I see you have the P90," said Daniel, "That's cool, I'm used to using one."

Ziva liked the look of the P90, but instead chose a standard-pattern assault rifle with a grenade launcher fitted. Duncan followed Daniels' example by taking a P90, and added a Beretta pistol. There were no handguns in the racks as well-made or powerful as Ebony and Ivory, but Dante helped himself to a 12-gauge tactical shotgun.

Ziva approached Harry, holding a pistol. She held it up so he could see her slap a magazine into the butt, slide back the action to chamber a round, then put the safety on. "SIG 10.5mm semi-automatic pistol," she told him, "Extended clip with 15 rounds, good stopping power, reliable, easy to use." She reversed the gun and extended it, butt-first, to Harry. "I'd feel a lot better if you had this. You shouldn't go in unarmed, Harry."

Harry grinned at her and held up his wand. "Ollivander, eleven inches, supple, holly with a phoenix-feather core. I'm not unarmed Ziva. I've had this wand since I was eleven years old, it's all the weapons I've ever needed or will ever need. _I'd_ feel a lot better if you didn't bring that thing within ten feet of me."

Ziva frowned, and looked about to argue, but Duncan put a hand on her shoulder. "The English don't like guns, Ziva," he said quietly, "and if Harry lives up to the reputation Dante gives him, he certainly won't need one!"

"You, Doctor, are another matter!" Dante said firmly. "Everyone knows you won't carry a lethal weapon, but we're gonna need you in there, and we don't want to be spending time looking after you!"

"Take my Zat-gun," Daniel offered, holding out the odd device he'd used before. "As long as you only shoot someone once with it, it just stuns. I'll take another of those Berettas."

The Doctor took Daniel's weapon and examined it. "Gou'a'ould technology, a zat'nik'tel. I can use this. Never did like the Gou'a'ould, though!"

"Neither did I." Daniel allowed. "Now, what about you, Tony?"

"I'm staying here," Tony announced. He reached into a drawer and began to pass out headsets. "These'll let me see what you're seeing, hear what you're saying, and talk with you. Along with the drones, I'll have a birds-eye view of everything, and can give you a heads-up about any nasty surprises. I'm not a fighter, so I wouldn't be much use in there, but from here, I can be helpful." He gave a slightly evil grin. "Also, this rig has a few more surprises in store!"

It took the League a few more minutes to equip themselves. Sensing Ziva's continuing agitation, Harry consented to accept an evil-looking combat knife which she called a KA-Bar, and allowed himself to be strapped into body armour. The armour was surprisingly light and comfortable, but Tony told them it was a 'Stark special' that would "stop anything short of a .50 cal at point-blank!" The Doctor refused a knife but accepted armour, quipping "I needed a new body-warmer, anyway." Dante eschewed both, "Human weapons don't bother me, and Rebellion here," he indicated the broadsword he wore, "is all I need for close combat.". Harry noted that Dante's insouciance about this didn't seem to bother Ziva, and was a little annoyed that she obviously considered the demon-hunter more capable than he. Ziva seemed to notice this and sidled up to Harry, saying quietly, "Dante doesn't have a wife and family, Harry. I don't know Ginny, but if the worst were to happen, I'd want to be able to face her with a clear conscience!"

Finally ready, the League ventured out of their vehicle to face the Castle. The first thing that happened was a volley of arrows from the battlements, but they'd been expecting that and Harry threw up a shield at once. Then the drawbridge dropped and an oddly-assorted force charged across. There was a decurio of Roman Legionaries, and a mob of Celtic and Viking warriors, supported by two mounted knights and four red-robed wizards.

It was clear that some kind of military mind was at work here, because the Roman soldiers arranged themselves in a small phalanx, the Celts and Vikings moved to the flanks and the wizards lined up at the rear. Meanwhile, the knights moved to the front and prepared to charge down on the League. They obviously meant to scatter the League so they could be picked off one by one, but as they began to canter forward, Ziva and Daniel fired simultaneously.

The results were peculiar. The knights were both knocked back out of their saddles by the impact, but as they hit the ground, they crumbled into dust. What was left were two very surprised-looking ghosts, barely visible in the bright sunlight. They looked at the League, then at each other, then floated off resignedly towards the Hold. Their horses took in the situation at a glance and, very sensibly, made off for parts unknown at high speed.

There was little time for the League to take in this development, as the Celts and Vikings promptly charged, the phalanx began a steady advance and the wizards started hurling Killing Curses as they advanced in the rear. Dante was hit in the chest with a curse and staggered back, swearing foully but suffering no other ill-effects. Daniel was also hit and knocked flat, Harry dashed over to him and was shocked to see him stirring and sitting up.

"What the...?" Harry began.

Daniel looked down at his chest, there was a large burn-mark on the body armour. "Tough stuff this," he remarked, "But I'd better stick to dodging!"

"Not for long!" Harry gritted. Then he stood up and Apparated behind the phalanx, directly among the wizards. Harry Potter was generally held to be among the finest, but most unconventional, wizard duellists of his generation, and now he showed why. The speed and agility which a childhood of evading bullies had given him kept him out of harms' way, whilst his devastating counter-curses kept his opponents busy shielding for much of the time. Harry had also learned from Ron the surprise value of a physical attack, his brother-in-law had always been readier than most wizards to throw a punch, and it frequently worked. Harry lacked Ron's height and reach, and the pile-driving power of his huge fists, but he could throw a clean left when he needed to. Four to one was slightly heavy odds but then, he thought, they should have brought more men!

By the time Harry had dealt with his opponents the rest of the League had made fair progress with the non-wizard elements. The Killing curses had showed them that despite the rather comic defeat of the knights, their foes were still lethal, so they pressed the advantage of range their modern weapons gave them, raking the charging warriors with short, lethal bursts of firepower. Any of the Celts and Vikings who made it past the guns went down under Dante's sweeping broadsword or Duncan's flashing katana. The field was covered with small piles of dust and rusting weapons, as well as the inert bodies of those the Doctor had stunned.

That left the Romans, still advancing in a disciplined phalanx, bristling with spears, a grizzled centurion in the back row yelling orders in Latin. Daniel and the Doctor exchanged grins, both understood the language and the man was shouting, "Steady, lads! Wait for it! Keep in line, Sextus Tullius, you horrible little man! The only thing you've got to be scared of is me, and I'm right behind you!" Sergeants are sergeants, whatever the army or the period!

However, the centurion was among the first to go down as Harry unleashed a flurry of curses on the rear of the phalanx, while Dante broke the front with blasts from his shotgun. The rest were mopped up in short order, and there was a pause. Then the bodies of stunned enemies suddenly shimmered and vanished, and the archers on the battlements began firing again. There was a rattle of chains as the portcullis came down and the drawbridge began to raise.

Tony's voice sounded in the League's ears. "Fall back behind the truck, I'll get this!"

As Harry ran for the vehicle, he saw the minigun turret begin to turn. It fired two short bursts, and there was a crash behind him. He dove underneath the ATV, then scrambled round to see what had happened. Tony had clearly shot the chains of the bridge away, causing it to fall into the lowered position, incapable of being raised again.

Inside the vehicle, Tony had switched to another screen, launching two more drones. These were not spheres, but torpedo-like objects with stubby wings, like miniature Cruise missiles. They were heavily-armed Assault Drones and Tony guided them over the battlements to sweep them clean of archers with machine-gun fire, then turned his attention to the defenders massed in the outer ward, who began an immediate, rather precipitate, retreat.

The rest of the League, grasping what had happened, sallied out onto the drawbridge. "Fire in the hole!" yelled Ziva, and launched two grenades at the portcullis, blowing it apart. The League charged through the tunnel and out onto the grassy slope of the outer ward. It was steep and slippery, and while Dante bounded ahead like a deer, the others were forced to scramble occasionally. Then Dante yelled, "Down!", the others dropped flat as a withering volley of musket fire came from the inner wall. Harry, bruised and gasping, muttered a prayer of thanks for the body armour Ziva had bullied him into wearing.

"Bastard Redcoats!" swore Duncan, "They had us like that at Culloden Muir. Four rounds a minute from a muzzle loader - they know what they're doing!"

"Four rounds a minute?" Ziva was incredulous. "Fifteen seconds for all that priming and ramming and stuff? Not possible!"

"Oh, it's possible." Duncan said grimly. "Ask the pride of the clans. Ask Bonaparte's Imperial Guard. Only the English could ever get that amount of firepower out of a Brown Bess!"

"He's right," the Doctor told her. "I was at Waterloo, you know. That's a Thin Red Line up there, and we won't get up this slope while they're still standing!"

"Good job you've got me, then!" said Tony over the comlink. "I know my history, too. Those guys were murder on infantry and cavalry, but I wouldn't rate their anti-aircraft skills!"

Once again, Tony sent the drones over the battlements, clearing away the line of red-coated soldiers. His creations were too agile and fast even for the wizards scattered among the musketmen to get an accurate curse on them. Then Tony pulled one of the drones back and launched a miniature air-to-surface missile at the gate, blowing it off its hinges.

"Go!" He barked, and the League charged up the slope. As they did so, a horn sounded from the Keep, three clear tones, and the red banners on the battlements lowered. There was a sudden moaning sound, like a wind, and a silvery legion of ghosts swept out through the ruined gate, over around and through the League, and out through the broken portcullis.

"Whoa!" Daniel exclaimed, "That was weird!"

Harry, who was used to ghosts, was less bothered, but the others clearly had not relished the supernatural chill of being surrounded by so many. Then Tony's voice sounded in their ears. "They're gone," he told them in a puzzled tone. "Those revenant things all just crumbled away and the ghosts have flown off!"

"Back to their old haunts," said the Doctor, getting a general groan. "Whoever's in command up there obviously decided we've got too much firepower for those types of soldiers, and called them off."

"Well, let's get up there," Daniel said, "And see what else is waiting."

"The inner ward's empty," Tony told them, "But the Keep is still locked down tight. Want me to use a missile on the doors?"

"Best not to," Harry cautioned, "So far the defences have been physical – sort of – but there's bound to be magic on those doors. We don't want the blast from that missile reflected onto us!"

"My sensors can't penetrate those walls, which they should be able to," Tony added, "So I guess you're right, Harry."

The League spread out across the inner ward, looking for anything that might help them."

"The walls are hollowed out," Ziva indicated the arrow slits and some doors along the lower level. "They were probably intended to house the men-at-arms and so on. If we could get in there, there might be tunnels or something leading into the main Keep."

"Which would be death-traps," Harry pointed out. "Voldemort's people tried to use tunnels and secret passages during the Battle of Hogwarts, but we knew where they all were and collapsed them. Don't want someone doing that with us inside the tunnel."

The Doctor was examining the door, and the others joined him. The great double door was made entirely of black iron, but a design in silver was picked out around the massive lock. To Harry, the patterns were meaningless, but looked like writing of some kind. Daniel was less puzzled:

"_Ennyn Godric aran Istari." _he read aloud "_Pedo essa a minno. Im Gloin hain echant. Godric Gryffindor teithant i thiw hin."_

"Well, that's gobbledigook if I ever heard it!" Duncan remarked.

"No it isn't ." Harry told him. "I speak a little Gobbledigook, and that isn't it. But these doors look Goblin-made to me."

"Well, they're not," the Doctor said firmly, "Orcs couldn't have made these, they don't have the skill. These doors are Dwarf-made – Tony's missile wouldn't even have scratched them, they're built to keep dragons out!"

"Dwarfs?" Harry was taken aback. "The only Dwarfs I've ever seen were delivering Valentines at Hogwarts!"

"Petty-Dwarfs," the Doctor said coldly, "_Noegyth nibin_, exiled from the ancient Houses of the Dwarfs for sloth, cowardice or greed. This door is the work of true Dwarfs, _Khazad_, of the House of Durin if I'm any judge."

"Well, the script is Quendi, or Elvish if you like, and so is the language." Daniel announced. "As near as I can make it without the database, it says, '_The Doors of Godric, Lord of Wizards. Speak your name and enter. I Gloin made them. Godric Gryffindor drew these signs.'_

"That seems plain enough. It seems Godric was familiar with the Red Book as well, Dante!"

"Huh?" said Ziva.

"The writing is almost word for word the same as what was engraved on the West-Gate of Moria, an ancient Dwarf stronghold." Tony told her.

"Except the instructions are clearer," said Dante, and stepped toward the door.

"Dante, son of Sparda." he announced clearly. One by one, the others did the same. Then the great lock clicked and the forbidding doors opened smoothly. The League went through to find themselves in a medium-sized hall, clearly some kind of ante-room, as there were chairs and small tables set around. At the other end of the hall was a smaller door, over which hung a portrait. As the League drew nearer, Harry gave a start of recognition, the portrait was Sirius Black!

This was not the Sirius whose portrait hung in the dining room at Grimmauld Place. This was the Sirius Harry had known in life: lean, worn and haggard, but with his unquenchable spirit still burning in his eyes. He shook his head as they approached.

"No wonder he sent me here," he said heavily, "the wizard and the Immortal, and I know them both!

"Well, he's bitten off more than he can chew this time, I think! But that's the way he'd want it. Harry, Duncan, only you two can go through here for now. The others can follow afterwards."

Sirius paused, then looked at Harry. "I never got the chance to be all I should have been to you, Harry. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Harry said gruffly, "You did what you thought was right. Deception never was your strong point, Sirius, or my parents'. That's how Pettigrew fooled you all."

"You chose your friends better, I think," Sirius allowed. "But now this is all on you two. This test is to the death, and nobody else can help. He knows why you're here, and this is the only way to get the Key. Good luck, both of you!"

As he finished, Harry felt a sudden yank, like that of a portkey, then he was somewhere else. A large, open space, like an arena or practice floor. He was orienting himself when he heard Duncan say quietly, "Harry." He spun to see the Highlander helpless in the grip of an eight-foot tall iron statue with four arms, like a Hindu god.

"Just to ensure that you don't interfere until I've dealt with this one, MacLeod." said a new voice. Harry turned to confront the newcomer. He was as tall as Harry, about six feet, but broader and more heavily-built, wearing a red wizard's cloak, but with chain mail beneath. He carried a wand in one hand, and a long sword hung by his side.

"Harry Potter," he said, with a sneer in his voice, "The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. But I know your dirty secret, Harry. I know the Hat chose you for Slytherin at first. I know why, too. The Hat is never wrong, Potter, it judges character exactly, and it knew you for a Slytherin – a sneaking, crafty, plotting coward – at heart. Did you confront Voldemort in open fight, and die honourably? No, you scurried around the country in hiding, seeking out his weaknesses and destroying them by stealth. Did you even have the decency to do this alone? No, you dragged your friends with you, a great clot of a lad who could barely walk without tripping over his own feet, and a prissy little Mudblood who could hardly bring herself to cast a Stun at anyone! Wand-fodder for the Death-eaters! And you, flinging around Unforgivable Curses, stealing, planning to cheat that Goblin if he hadn't cheated you first. Allowing your friends and allies to die by the dozen while you looked for jewellery. Not even the guts to send the girl you pretend to love to safety!"

That tore it! Harry loosed off a curse without even thinking about it, one the wizard only just blocked.

"Ha!" he cried, "Now we'll see! No room for tricks here, nowhere to hide! Nobody to hide behind. Gryffindor or Slytherin, Harry Potter? Let's find out! _Avada Kedavra_!"

But Harry was already moving, and the curse went wide. If his enemy thought to cloud his mind with rage, he was sadly mistaken. Harry Potter was no longer the impetuous, short-tempered teenager who had vowed to avenge his parents and Headmaster. The long hunt for horcruxes, and his career since, had seasoned him, taught him to keep a cool head. This was no easy duel, for all that. His opponent was fighting to kill, and Harry knew he had to do the same. The wizard had the edge in power, perhaps, but Harry was faster; both were equally skilled. In the end, it was speed that did it. Harry dropped under a curse, rather than dodging to the side, and fired off a Killing Curse as he went down – a move he had invented himself and never seen any other wizard use. His opponent went down with a grunt, and Harry got to his feet.

"Done!" he said grimly.

"No, Harry," said Duncan hoarsely, "he's an Immortal!"

Then Harry felt himself seized from behind and realised that he was now in the grip of one of the four-armed Golems. The supposedly dead wizard rose to his feet, threw his wand aside and drew his sword. But before he could move toward the helpless Harry, Duncan was between them, katana in hand.

"Seems you can only control one of those things at a time," he said, "Dumb move to toss your wand like that. With it, you might have had a chance against me."

"You think so?" asked the red-cloaked wizard, "I've over a thousand years behind me to your four hundred. Look to yourself, Highlander!"

Duncan had duelled against any number of mortals and Immortals. This man, though, had clearly spent centuries studying his art, and fought in an eclectic way, borrowing from styles as wide-ranging as the violent sword-flashing braggadocio of the Celtic warrior and the measured, controlled cuts of the samurai. But Duncan, too was a master of many styles, learning his craft in the savagery of clan feuds, swinging his heavy _claidheamh mòr_among the blood-soaked heather, refining it sword-to-sword with D'Artagnan on the practice floor of the Hotel de Treville in Paris, perfecting it in the Shaolin temples of Honan and the _dojos _of Kyoto.

There was no leaping, running, ducking or rolling here. Neither man moved more than a few steps, but the air between them hissed and rang with the movement and clash of their blades. Like Harry before him, Duncan found himself pushed beyond the limits of what he believed he could do. Then the end came quite suddenly. Duncan saw his opening as he countered a wicked thrust. Just as in the teachings of Musashi, he followed through, never letting the blades lose contact until he passed the wizard's guard and stabbed him cleanly through the chest.

"Are we done?" he asked, withdrawing his blade.

Clutching at his wound and still, incredibly, upright, the wizard shook his head. "The old game may be a fraud, Duncan," he gasped, "But here the old rule still applies."

Duncan nodded, saying sadly, "In the end, there can be only one!" Then he cut, swiftly, his blade a platinum blur. The wizard's head fell from his shoulders and his body slumped down. Harry, suddenly free, started toward Duncan but the Highlander gestured him back urgently. Aware of a rising wind out of nowhere, Harry stopped. Duncan stood over the corpse and, as if compelled, raised his arms, his sword still gripped in his right hand. A cloud rose out of the body, the wind became wilder as it hovered over Duncan, and suddenly lightning struck down from it at the Immortal. Duncan twitched and shook as his body absorbed the power, but stayed upright. The room rang with peals of thunder, but through it Harry thought he heard laughter – hearty, booming laughter composed of triumph and the pure joy of release.

Then it was done, and Duncan knelt where the body of his opponent had been. But both body and head were gone, reduced to ashes by the power that had gone out of them. Harry ran over to Duncan, but the Highlander was already on his feet, seeming to crackle with barely-contained energy.

"Quick, Harry, while I still remember what to do! While I still have his Quickening!"

He led Harry over to a circular stone in the centre of the floor, a stone now aglow with a golden light. At Duncan's gesture, Harry joined him on the stone, and it began to rise, shooting upward at unnerving speed, through a hole in the ceiling and up a shaft Harry realised must be the slender tower they had seen from outside. Within moments, they had reached a small room. With a faint click, the stone locked itself into the floor, and the two men stepped toward a small table which bore a steel chest.

The instant Harry came close to the chest he felt the power of it – a locking spell so powerful that it physically pushed him back. Duncan placed himself behind Harry, and rested his hands on the younger man's shoulders.

"Right, this is going to be like nothing you ever felt before, Harry. But you have to keep calm and cast _alohomora_ at the chest when I tell you, OK?"

Harry nodded. Duncan's hands tightened on his shoulders. Then a surge, like electricity, like heat, like raw magic, shot through Harry's body. He suddenly felt like a giant, a superhuman who could do anything. "Now!" rapped Duncan, and Harry cast the opening spell. The power flowed out of him, down his wand, which shuddered with the strain, and smashed at the locking spell, shattering it like glass. The chest flew open. Harry and Duncan both sagged.

As he regained his composure, Harry realised that now he knew what had happened. The Quickening, the energy that set Immortals aside from other humans, could only be released by beheading – the sole way to kill an Immortal. Once taken in a duel, that energy could be used by the victor, either merged with his own, or used in a single burst for a specific task. In this case, Duncan had used the Immortal wizards' Quickening to boost Harry's spell and break through the magical lock on the chest. But the Quickening did not just give power...

Harry turned to Duncan, "That was..."

Duncan cut him short with a raised hand. "We'll talk later, Harry. Right now, get that Key before this tower seals itself forever!"

Harry ran over and lifted the steel key from the chest, then joined Duncan on the glowing stone. They dropped back down the tower at a more sedate pace than they had risen, arriving not in the empty arena, but in a hall full of tables and chairs, lined with portraits, armour and weapons, to find their friends anxiously waiting.

"You did it!" Ziva yelled, hugging them both.

"Of course they did!" Dante said, thumping Harry on the back and nearly knocking him flat.

Tony was wringing Duncan's hand. "I heard you up until you opened the door, then I lost you. So I came up to see if I could help, luckily you'd told me how to open the door. Then the others told me you'd been taken. What happened?"

Without answering, Harry went over to where Daniel and the Doctor were looking up at a portrait above the great hearth. The others followed.

"This frame was empty until a few minutes ago," said the Doctor, "it's a picture of..."

"Godric Gryffindor." finished Harry.

The image of his erstwhile opponent finally looked up from the scroll he'd been pretending to read, rose from his chair and bowed deeply.

"Finally, true greetings to you, Harry Potter." He said. "If I was harsh to you at our first meeting, remember that it was a test. I wished to put you on your mettle, to show your true self and strength.

"Duncan MacLeod, of the clan MacLeod, my thanks to you. The centuries were becoming a burden without relief, but I could never surrender to one of less worth."

"Why?" asked Harry bluntly.

Godric sighed. "The Key is not something I could lightly give away. Any possession of mine would give its holder unwarranted power in our world, Harry, you know this. So as the centuries wore on, and I grew weary, I determined that I would lock the Key away with a spell of such power that only the skill of a worthy wizard, enhanced by the power of the Quickening, could break it. In that way, and only in that way, could I test the worth and the urgency of any that came seeking it. Only if the need were absolute would both wizard and Immortal come here together, and without the Doctor's Key, no-one could find this Hold."

"Suppose I'd come here on my own?" asked the Doctor, irritably.

Godric smiled grimly at his former ally. "I lack both Rowena's knowledge to test you, Doctor, and Helga's clear-sighted love to recognise you - you have changed, and how should I know if you are true? I am a soldier, you are a loremaster, and I do not always understand or trust what moves you to do things."

"The Brigadier says things like that." the Doctor replied crossly, "He always reminds me of you."

"Sir Alistair is a brave and worthy man," Godric remarked, "You do me honour by comparing us, Doctor. But this I know of you, Doctor, you are careful of the lives of others. Knowing that the test was to the death, you would not bring the needed people here unless there was no choice."

"What if we'd lost?" asked Duncan.

"Your courage in attempting the test would have been enough for me to know the need, Highlander. I would have fetched the Key myself and gone with the Doctor to the Vault, to help as I could. But my hope was that you would win, and free me from a life already too long."

"Just one thing," Harry wanted to know, "You've been here, all these centuries, and there have been times when we've needed you. You could have stopped Grindlewald, or even Voldemort, easily! Why didn't you?"

Godric shrugged. "There have been times when I have been elsewhere, Harry, walking among muggles or wizards in disguise. I have borne my part in many struggles, it is true. But if I could not defeat you, how should I defeat Voldemort?"

"Crap!" said Harry flatly, "You didn't beat me just now, true. But I'm a lot better, a lot more experienced, than I was back then. I've fought you, and I've fought Tom Riddle, and you could have beaten him! You pushed me to my limits back there."

"You flatter me," said Godric with a faint smile, "But consider, if our world had known that mighty Godric yet dwelt in his Hold, would anyone have risen up to challenge evil themselves? Let Godric deal with it, they would have said.

"If I had hunted down his horcruxes, and slain Voldemort in his tracks before you were born, Harry Potter, what would you be now? A Quidditch player? A star of the game, perhaps, pampered and adored, but never truly respected or admired. Your courage untested, your potential for leadership unknown, your magical talent undeveloped. Such a waste.

"You are a better man than I, Harry Potter. Braver, more skilled, kinder, and more truly loved. But without Voldemort, and the trials of your youth, you would not be!

"So take the Key you have so nobly earned, and do what you must. Godspeed to you all!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Seven: The Grim Keep and the Golden Knight**

_Hogwarts Castle, May 24rd 2011_

Interviewing the students had been fun, but exhausting. They'd divided up the tasks, allowing the Doctor and Daniel to deal with the Ravenclaws, Duncan and Tony to handle the Hufflepuffs, while Harry and Ziva tackled the Gryffindors. This left the formidable, and scary, Dante to deal with any Muggle-baiting shenanigans the Slytherins might dream up. His only comment afterwards was "Quiet bunch", and since all the others had had their ears talked off, they took it as read that the strategy had worked.

However, once again a casual comment from the Doctor had triggered Harry's radar.

"Doctor," he said, "back at the Hold, when I said Goblin, you said 'Orc'. What's that all about?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Orcs, Goblins, same thing." He said. "Why? Is it important?"

"Well, it might be, considering that Goblins run Gringotts, the wizard bank, and that they make all sorts of items, tools, jewellery and stuff that they charge wizards an arm and a leg for." Harry pointed out. "Now those doors looked Goblin-made to me, but then you go and tell me that Goblin's couldn't have made 'em. So now you've got me wondering just who does make all that stuff we pay them through the nose for?"

The Doctor shook his head. "All I said was that those doors were Dwarf-built. You heard Daniel, they were built by somebody called Gloin, and that's definitely a Dwarf name."

Dante looked up. "You said you speak a bit of Gobbledigook, Harry." He said. "Do you know what the Goblin's word for themselves is, in their own language?"

Harry frowned at the question, but said, "_Uruk,_ or _Uruk-hai_ if they're being formal. What difference does that make?"

The Doctor looked grim, and Dante leaned forward. "Harry, that word comes from the Black Speech of Mordor. It's what the Orcs used to call themselves. Orcs is what Men called them, and it comes from an Elvish word, _Yrch_.

"The Orcs were soldiers created by the first Dark Lord, Melkor Morgoth, in the Ages of the Trees. Though they say he didn't create them as such, but just twisted them to his own purposes."

"That's close to the truth," Daniel said. "According to the Asgard database, the Valar – and Melkor was one of them – were a kind of semi-ascended race, like the Ori. They came to Earth millennia ago, before the Gou'a'ould and the Atlantean Ancients, and settled here for a while. The continents were different then, and when there was a falling out, most of the Valar kept to their base in the western continent that was later to become the Americas. But Melkor and his gang came to another land-mass that contained what we now call Europe, Asia and Africa.

"The evidence shows that they did have a race of genetically-engineered servants, and it seems that Melkor adapted them even more, to make them fighters. It was around then that the Quendi came to Earth and allied themselves with the Valar. Depending on how you read it, there was one long war that lasted thousands of years, or a series of smaller ones. Apparently, Melkor had stolen the Zero-Point Modules, the ZPGs, that powered the three ships the Quendi had come in. The war eventually involved the Humans of that era, who had migrated North and West from Central Africa, and the Dwarfs.

"In the end, the Valar and the Quendi managed to recover one of the ZPGs and a lot of the Quendi left. Those that stayed behind lived among the Humans for a while, even interbred with them, but eventually they all moved West and the Valar taught them to Ascend. They're all gone now. But when Melkor was destroyed, his soldiers – these Orcs, as Dante calls them – were left behind. They could be the ancestors of your Goblins."

"And what about Dwarfs?" Harry wanted to know.

The Doctor shrugged again. "They're native to Earth. Evolved descendants of the species you call Neanderthals. Great craftsmen, especially in metal and stone, but grumpy and quarrelsome at times. There were never very many of them, and they reproduce quite slowly. I haven't seen or heard of them in years, but clearly some were still around a thousand or so years ago, to help build Godric's Hold.

"Obviously, from what you said, there are still some Petty-Dwarfs around as well!"

Harry made a decision. "Doctor, come with me." he said. He led the way to the Head's study, meeting Professor McGonagall on the way.

"Professor," he said, "do you still have Gryffindor's Sword in your study?"

"I do indeed, Harry, as you well know," she replied, "I was inclined to let Neville keep it as a souvenir of his finest moment, but he insisted it belonged here. Why do you ask?"

"I need to show it to the Doctor, if that's OK?"

A few moments later, Harry was taking the long sword with its ruby-studded hilt out of the glass case and handing it to the Doctor. The TimeLord accepted the weapon, handling it with a surprising professionalism, testing the balance and feeling the edge.

"Dwarf-made." He stated flatly. "No mistake. No Orc, or Goblin if you insist, could have forged this. Not even the Uruk-hai. Anyway, the maker's signature is on the tang, see?"

"Looks like runes," Harry said, peering at the tiny mark. "I never studied Ancient Runes."

"These are Daeron's Runes." The Doctor explained. "Daeron was an Elf. He invented these Runes, but the Quendi stopped using them when Feanor developed a cursive script. The Dwarfs liked them, though, and always used them in formal inscriptions. This says "Dwalin son of Bifur made me." Dwalin is definitely a Dwarf name."

Harry sighed, then told the Doctor about Griphook, and the Goblin's insistence that the Sword was Goblin-work and that all Goblin-made items remained the property of their makers, being hired rather than sold. The Doctor gave a short laugh.

"Well, he would say that, wouldn't he? An Orc's idea of what's his property has always been 'Anything I can pick up and hang on to'!"

Harry had several Goblin-made items at home, some of which had been made to order for him, and all of which showed the same standard of craftsmanship as the Sword. He decided that, once this job was over, he was going to take a long, hard look into the Goblin's affairs. Something wasn't right about all this!

_Interlude: SGC_

General Landry stared hard at his computer screen. "You're absolutely sure about this, Brigadier?"

The handsome, middle-aged black woman at the other end of the video-link nodded emphatically. "The communication was direct from the man himself, General. In the event of a break-out, Dr Doom will signal "Bad Wolf", giving UNIT and SGC forces _carte-blanche_ to enter Latverian airspace and territory. Local logistic support will be available. The only conditions are that we liaise with local forces, and withdraw completely the moment the threat is eliminated."

Landry frowned again. "Let me get his clear, Brigadier Bambera. Only UNIT and SGC forces?"

"Correct, General. It seems that von Doom is not prepared to trust SHIELD, and our people are the only others with the right level of technology."

"Well in that case, we'd better start planning!"

_Salazar's Keep: May 25th, 2011_

"Look," Harry was saying, "There's no telling what we'll find in there. There could be any kind of magical creature. There could even be charms or hexes that will work on our minds. I can't say anything specific, except we have to stick together and keep our eyes open.

"One thing I will say is that Slytherin had an absolute contempt for Muggles. There's no way he'd have believed Muggles capable of creating the kinds of technology and weapons we have in this unit. That might just give us an edge.

"Having said that, Ziva, I still don't want a gun!"

Ziva smiled. "Good, because I wasn't going to offer you one, Harry. After the Hold, I know what you can do. You don't need one!"

The League was waiting outside the fully-deployed Support Unit. In front of them stood the grim curtain wall of Salazar's Keep. The cavernous gateway was open, but looked far from inviting. Harry was apprehensive. His entire wizard education had, however unintentionally, been slanted to the belief that Salazar Slytherin had been one of the most evil wizards to walk the Earth, despite his status as a Founder.

Before he had time to psych himself into a total funk, however, Tony's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"OK, people, the drones are deployed. Between ultra-sound and IR, I've got a pretty good picture of what's going on. That gate leads into a courtyard, with the main Keep in the middle, but there aren't any doors at ground level.

"There is a door on the left side of the tunnel through the curtain wall, and it leads down into a network of underground passages and chambers. It's pretty tangled, but I think I can talk you through the quickest route to the Keep itself. There doesn't seem to be anything alive or moving in there, but I wouldn't bet the farm on the place being empty!"

"Right!" Dante said. "Let's get going. We're burning daylight here."

They found the door easily enough, but opening it was a different matter. It was too sturdy even for Dante to knock down, and all the opening spells Harry knew failed to budge it. Ziva was about to suggest going back to the rig for some plastic explosive when Harry said, "Wait a sec! There's one thing I haven't tried!"

Harry, along with everyone else, had assumed that when the fragment of Voldemort's soul he'd carried all his life had been destroyed, he'd lost his ability to speak Parseltongue. However, a short while later both Ron and Ginny had informed him that he still spoke the language of snakes in his sleep. A visit to a Muggle psychiatrist – the father of a half-blood wizard friend – had confirmed that Harry's subconscious mind might very well have retained this skill, and with the help of magical memory specialists at St Mungo's , Harry had relearned it. Now he faced the door and hissed "_Open!_"

The door slid backwards a few feet, then retracted into the side wall, revealing a short passage to a flight of green-lit stairs.

"That was _supposed_," said the Doctor in a tone of mock disappointment, "to swing wide with a sinister creaking sound!"

"Maybe your old pal Salazar didn't read the script." Daniel pointed out, as they ventured inside.

By unspoken agreement, Harry took point while Dante -the tallest of the League – held the rear. The passages and chambers were lit with a uniform, sourceless green glow; enough to see by but also prone to create impenetrable shadows in certain places. The walls were stone, and in many places either painted or carved with grim, tortured images. Sinister statues and gargoyles guarded doorways and arches, most of which they passed as Tony guided them forward from his high-tech vantage point.

The first obstacle was pretty much what Harry expected. The League entered a large chamber filled with unidentifiable mounds, which suddenly stood up, resolved into human shape and began to shamble forward.

"Inferi!" Yelled Harry, loosing a fireball that incinerated three or four.

"I hate Zombies!" Dante snarled, and began blazing away with his guns.

The Doctor took no part in the fight, but was intrigued to note one oddity. Though Duncan, Ziva and Daniel were firing accurately and methodically into the enemy, their weapons were having little effect. Certainly the high-velocity bullets knocked the Inferi down, and blew off limbs. But even those who had been decapitated got up immediately and fumbled their way forward. Harry's fire spells reduced the animated corpses to ashes, of course. Dante's guns, however, were equally effective. Every Inferi struck by a round from Ebony or Ivory immediately exploded into dust.

Even so, it took a while to clear the room. Harry surveyed the mess of dust, ashes and feebly twitching body-parts that covered the floor. "Nasty!" He said. "No single wizard could have got through this room easily. There's not enough room for one of the big fire-spells, I'd've flash-fried myself or the rest of you if I'd tried it! You'd have to do it piecemeal like we did. Without back-up, a single person would have been mobbed in short order."

"Everything OK?" Came Tony's voice. "Sorry, but my systems didn't detect those things until they started moving!"

"Don't worry about it," Duncan told him, "You're looking for live enemies, not dead ones."

The Doctor was looking round the room again. "This isn't right." He shook his head. "Salazar was a bit odd, you know. What the kids would call a Goth, these days. Into wearing black and exploring the darker corners of life. But this, this is just grim, perverse almost!"

"People change, Doctor," Duncan pointed out. "We've both lived long enough to know that!"

"Much you'd know about it, youngster!" The Doctor grinned at Duncan, then shook his head. "Not so much for me, Highlander. It's a big Universe, and I don't often meet people more than once. Even then, it's usually under circumstances that bring out the best or the worst in them."

Daniel was also peering at the walls. "Was Salazar Egyptian?" he asked.

"English," Harry told him. "From the Fens, I think. Why?"

Daniel shrugged. "The writing on the walls. By the look of it, those were the spells that preserved these Zombies, or Inferi, and activated them when we entered the room. Thing is, they're ancient spells, I've seen them before on cartouches in tombs. Egyptian spells, carved on the walls in hieroglyphics."

"Might he have studied in Egypt?" Ziv asked.

"Might've," Harry allowed. "The College of Karnak is the oldest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world. Legend has it that Thoth himself founded it seven thousand years ago."

"That's probably true." Daniel stated as they began to move forward. "The Gou'a'ould controlled Earth until the third millennium BCE, and Thoth was one of them. Wizards would have made exceptionally powerful hosts for the Gou'a'ould."

"Were all the old gods these Gou'a'ould?" Ziva wanted to know.

"Mostly," Daniel informed her. "The Scandinavian ones – Thor and the rest – were based on the Asgard. The actual Aesir, like the other Thor, are partially-Ascended beings who were allies of the Asgard and took on some of their culture."

"Do things always have to be this complicated?" Duncan complained.

"Complicated?" Echoed the Doctor. "I could tell you about _complicated_! Compared to some of the things I've seen, this world is as complicated as a ten-piece jigsaw! There's a world in the Hyades..."

It was perhaps fortunate that Tony's voice came through the earphones before the Doctor could get fully launched onto his theme.

"Guys, I'm getting a severe temperature drop in the next room. There are things in there, moving about, and they're radiating cold!"

"Bloody Hell!" Harry growled. "Everybody stay behind me, and think happy thoughts!"

"We going to Neverland?" Dante asked.

"Second star on the right, and straight on till morning!" Duncan replied.

"All out of fairy dust!" Daniel reported.

"Can it!" Snapped Ziva. "Let Harry concentrate!"

In fact, the banter had been helping, so Harry was pretty ready when a dozen Dementors appeared out of the shadows and glided towards the League. He thought of Ginny and the kids, and invoked "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The great silver stag crashed into the Dementors like a battering ram, scattering them and goring at least two of them on the spot. It pursued the others round the chamber, tossing them around like toys as they shrieked and tried to shrink into the shadows. One by one, they gained the opposite door and fled, howling. Finally, as the last of them left the chamber, the stag tossed its head, turned and trotted back to Harry before vanishing.

"Cool!" Dante commented. "Let's go!"

It was, Tony told them, the final room before they penetrated the Keep itself. A long, arched hallway with a large door at the end. As they made their way down it, Harry found himself in an odd train of thought.

_What was he doing here? So what if the Muggle world was under threat from these Daleks? After all, the Daleks themselves were only Muggles, inferior to wizards. Why was he, a wizard, an Auror, charged with the protection of his world, showing its greatest secrets to these Muggles? Better if he obliviated the whole boiling of them and went back where he belonged. If the Daleks wiped out all the Muggles, so much the better – his world would finally be safe from them. You can't trust Muggles. Magic scares them and they kill things that frighten them!_

Harry shook his head to clear it – this wasn't like him. He looked around at everyone else.

Daniel was thinking: _This is stupid! I'm an archaeologist, not a soldier! There's important stuff I should be doing back at Atlantis. Why am I wasting my time running around old tunnels armed to the teeth? Jack keeps on doing this to me. Why didn't he send Mitchell, or Teal'c, Sheppard or Ronon out on this gig? I need to get back to Atlantis before McKay does something dumb and shuts the place down for good! Maybe they'll ship me back? Dammit, I could just get on the next plane out, if I wanted to!_

Daniel blinked – this was a flashback to the old days, when SG-1 was still new, and he spent more time arguing with Jack than supporting him.

"I know," This was the Doctor's voice, "I can feel it, too. The trick is to ignore it."

"We don't," snarled Ziva, "all have your big brain. Or the big head to go with it!"

"Knock it off, Ziva." Duncan said steadily. "You're a soldier. You should know when someone's attacking your morale."

"Sorry," muttered Ziva, looking shamefaced.

"It's all right," said the Doctor, "It's getting to Dante and me less because neither of us is really human."

Harry shook himself, then raised his wand and cast a Revealing Charm. Half a dozen especially ugly gargoyles began to glow redly. Harry pointed his wand at the nearest and said "_Reducto_!" The statue shattered and everyone immediately felt rather better. The League systematically destroyed the other five and were back to normal. "Or whatever," Ziva remarked wrily, "Passes for normal in present company!"

"We love you, too, dear." Harry riposted in a dry tone as he confronted the door. Close to, he could see that a face was carved into the wood. The thin, bearded face of Slytherin himself. "Here we go!" Harry said, then hissed "_Open_!" in Parseltongue. The door opened onto absolute blackness, a cold wind blew, and Harry felt the swirl of a Portkey.

The League were in the great, stone courtyard, facing the looming Keep. For a moment, all was still, then a shadow blocked the sun, and the biggest, angriest-looking dragon Harry had ever seen swooped down and settled in front of them. The thing had to be at least fifteen metres long, with a jet-black hide and glowing orange eyes. It confronted the League and gave a warning roar.

That seemed to be some kind of signal, because almost immediately another, equally large, creature emerged from behind the Keep. A gigantic snake at which Harry took one look...

"Don't look at the eyes!" He bellowed urgently, ignoring his own instructions. Fortunately, his view of the basilisk was immediately blocked by the huge figure of Dante. Harry heard two shots, then the serpent threw up its head with a hissing screech, and he saw that both its eyes had been blown to bloody ruin!

In the Support Unit, Tony calmly took off his headphones, said quietly, "Jarvis, take over!", then got to his feet and, face set, moved toward the closed chamber at the rear of the rig.

Things were getting a trifle warm in the courtyard. Though eyeless, and robbed of its main power, the basilisk was still huge and powerful, and was still able to smell and hear its prey. It also still had its deadly venom. The dragon was even more lethal, belching gouts of flame or swiping with its razor-sharp claws and mighty tail.

The League had little or nothing with which to counter these creatures. Both had hides too tough for the small arms they carried. Only Dante's guns would penetrate, but the slugs were too small to do more than irritate either beast. He had managed to inflict some deeper wounds with the Hell-forged broadsword, Rebellion, but at the expense of being flung repeatedly across the courtyard. Harry's powerful stunning spells and fireballs had some effect, but not nearly enough. The grenade launcher mounted on Ziva's gun hurt both creatures, but didn't stop them. The only other effective weapon was the Doctor's sonic screwdriver which, set at a certain level, confused and disoriented the monsters. Unfortunately, each creature required a different setting, and the device's range was limited.

"We are on," Ziva decided as she and Daniel crouched behind Harry's shield, "a hiding to nothing here! Anyone got any bright ideas?"

"All out, here!" Harry admitted.

"Tony," Daniel said into his microphone, "Where are those UAV's?"

The voice that replied was not Tony's. It was very precise, very polite, and very, very English.

"My apologies, Dr Jackson," it said, "But Mr Stark is currently unavailable. The Unmanned Aerial Vehicles can only be commanded by a human, so I regret I am unable to assist at the moment."

"What the Hell is he up to?" Ziva wanted to know. Then everything changed.

There was a roar that was not the dragon's, and a red and gold figure streaked over the wall, swooped into the courtyard and slammed full-force into the dragon, hurling it back against the opposite wall. The beast roared in pain and began to scramble to its feet. The red and gold figure settled to the ground and was revealed to be a man in glittering, ultra-modern metal armour.

"Iron Man?" Daniel said, astonished, "How did he get here?"

At that moment, Iron Man raised his hand, palm out, towards the dragon and fired a bolt of force that once again crushed the monster against the wall. Harry distinctly heard a wing, and possibly other bones, break.

"Yay for our side!" Yelled Dante, then he was suddenly surrounded by a crimson glow. When it had vanished, a very different Dante stood in his place. Taller, broader, with coal-black skin, gleaming fangs and red eyes. Electricity seemed to crackle around him, and his sword flickered like a bolt of lightning. Great, bat-like wings unfolded from his shoulders and he took to the air, swooping down on the confused basilisk. This time, he was far too fast for the beast's maddened lunges and tail-swipes, and his blade inflicted deeper, deadly wounds, as well as convulsing the basilisk with mega-volt electric shocks. It was too much for the great snake. Once again, it flung up its head with a scream, and Dante sliced its throat open. The basilisk collapsed in a gout of black blood and lay still.

Meanwhile, the dragon had heaved itself upright. Injured and in pain, it was still angry and ready to fight. It belched flames at its tormentor. Iron Man didn't even appear to blink. The dragon opened its jaws again, but this time the armoured hero launched a small rocket from his forearm into the gaping jaws. There was a shattering explosion, and the dragon's headless corpse slumped to the ground.

Dante settled to the ground near his team-mates. Once again, he glowed crimson, and returned to his human form. He appeared to be exhausted, and Duncan moved to support him. Dante leaned on the Highlander's sturdy shoulder and said to the others, "I'll be OK in a sec. That stunt kinda drains me, but not for long."

"So," Daniel said accusingly to Iron Man, "You've been shadowing us all this time. Tony might have told us!"

The Doctor burst out laughing. "Of course!" he said, "You lot don't know!"

Iron Man turned to the TimeLord. "And you do?" He asked, in a deep, resonant voice.

The Doctor chuckled again. "Of course I do. It's in all the history books, isn't it? Well, in a lot of the history books I've read, anyway. Which is pretty much all of them. Except Pliny, but I knew him, and he was an idiot."

"Presumably, you read them all looking for references to yourself." Remarked Ziva dourly. "But if you two are done being enigmatic, suppose you tell us what we don't know? Don't worry, Doctor, you'll still know more than all of us put together!"

Harry noted that the Doctor's cheerful egotism was beginning to grate on Ziva. He'd better have a word with her, later.

In the meantime, Iron Man had turned to the rest of the League, and now his visor lifted upwards to reveal the grinning face of Tony Stark.

"Made you look!" He crowed.

There was general astonishment among the Muggles. Harry was only mildly surprised, but then he had barely heard of either Tony or his supposed superhero bodyguard before he met the man.

Finally, Duncan said, "So you're your own bodyguard?"

"Yeah," Tony was clearly delighted at the reaction he'd provoked. "It means I can always be close to myself without making those intimate moments awkward!"

"That's why they asked you to join, right?" Enquired Dante.

"Not wholly," Tony admitted. "The League did and does need the kind of technical and logistic support I can give. Harry admitted that he can't transport us all magically, not all at once, anyway. The Doctor can't get us to magical places in his TARDIS, either. But I have the resources and technology to get us anywhere in the world, fast.

"Sure, Sir John knows who I am. He also knows that this suit can stand up to Dalek weapons, and that their force fields are no good against my repulsors. I was kinda the ace in the hole.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys, but I'm so used to keeping the secret for one thing. For another, I hoped it wouldn't come to the point. None of us expected this kind of heavy opposition, I don't think."

"That we didn't." Admitted Duncan, then turned to the Doctor. "Why didn't you say anything?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Tony didn't mention it, so why should I? For all I knew, you already knew about it. Anyway, the subject never came up."

"Much as I hate to disturb this _deus ex machina_ moment," Harry put in, "it seems yon Keep has acquired a doorway!"

The gloomy archway didn't inspire notions of hearty hospitality, but they went in anyway, Tony lowering his visor as they did so. The corridor was long, straight, unbroken and lit with the same sickly green as the underground chambers and passages. After a while, it opened out into a semi-circular area with an open door in the centre of the far wall. In the centre of the area stood a six-foot tall pyramid. They walked round it and found that in the face that looked towards the door, an eye had been carved.

"That's a Masonic emblem." Duncan said. "What's it doing here?"

"There are wizard lodges." Harry pointed out. His brother-in-law, Ron, was a Freemason, as were all the men in his family. Harry had been invited, but never joined because he couldn't bring himself to believe in a Supreme Being. From what Ron had said, it just seemed to be a high-class social club, though Hermione jokingly referred to meetings as "Ron's Take Over the World Nights".

"I'm not surprised," Daniel told Harry. "But the Grand Lodge wasn't founded until the 1700's – the Doctor was probably at the meeting – so Slytherin couldn't have been a member."

"It was at the _Goose and Gridiron_," The Doctor told them. "and we all got completely hammered after the meeting. But the All-Seeing Eye is a far older symbol than that."

"Well," Ziva asked practically, "what is it looking at?"

Harry went to the door and peeked through it. "Room full of statues." He reported.

"What kind of statues?" Dante demanded.

"Angels," Harry told him. "Angels with their hands over their faces."

"Oh, Salazar, you _idiot_!" The Doctor snapped. "Only you would be fool enough to use the Weeping Angels as guards!"

"Weeping Angels?" Duncan asked.

"Yes, or the Lonely Assassins." The Doctor said grimly. "A predatory species who've evolved the ultimate camouflage technique. As long as they can be seen, they can't move, they're just stone. But the moment you look away, or even blink, they move - fast. When they catch someone, they either kill them or send them back in time to feed on the unused life."

"So this Eye thing must be keeping them frozen." Ziva hazarded. "What's the betting that door will close as soon as we go in?"

"Sucker bet." Tony replied in the artificially deepened tones of Iron Man.

"Right!" The Doctor said briskly. "We need to be in a circle, facing outwards, and holding hands. One of us is going to have to guide while the rest of us watch. Keep looking at the angels, try not to blink, and if you see one with its face uncovered, don't look it in the eyes!"

"Hang on a minute!" Harry said. "I can cast a Super-Sensory Spell that'll give me three hundred and sixty degree vision for a time. Will that help?"

"It'll make it easier." The Doctor allowed. "But the rest of us will still need to keep a sharp look-out for ourselves."

Sure enough, the door closed as soon as they entered the room and began to thread their way through the statues. Harry's spell appeared to be working, but the human mind isn't built to cope with all-around vision – which is why Quidditch players didn't use the spell – and it was normally only used for seconds at a time, such as when parking a car or tackling a difficult junction. This meant that Harry was liable to become disoriented, but the Doctor kept guiding him in the right direction.

They were three-quarters of the way through when Daniel said, "Uh-oh!". From the corner of his eye, Dante saw the American scientist had been grabbed by a statue. One arm was round his chest, restraining his arms, the other hand was at his throat. Across from Dante, Iron Man reached out, without turning his head, and grasped the elbow of the arm holding Daniel's throat. The stone crumbled like pastry under Tony's cybernetically-enhanced grip. Somewhere on the edge of hearing, there was a high, thin scream as the hand and forearm fell to the floor. Dante seized the shoulder and elbow of the statue's other arm and snapped it off with a grunt. The screaming grew, and there was anger in it now, and more voices.

"That's torn it!" The Doctor shouted. "Move!"

The League speeded up, which meant that they could not keep as keen a watch, but Dante and Iron Man systematically smashed every statue they came close to. As they came within feet of the exit, the door swung open to reveal another All-Seeing Eye, and they stumbled through to safety.

The small hall they were now in had a flight of steps leading upwards. Harry shut off the Super-Sensory Spell and sat down on the bottom step, head in hands. Ziva knelt beside him, anxious. "I'm fine," he assured her, "just a bit dizzy. Be OK in a min."

When Harry had recovered himself, they went on up the stairs to a landing with a large, wooden door that opened at a touch. The light that streamed out was natural sunlight, and they stepped into a high, spacious chamber with large windows. The room was big, but crowded. The walls were lined with shelves stuffed with books, scrolls and assorted objects, some of which were not easy to look at. In the centre of the room stood a large, elaborate sarcophagus, at the sight of which Daniel gave a hiss of indrawn breath. At the far end of the room was a dais of seven steps, on which stood a heavy, throne-like chair. At the foot of the dais was a simple raised platform, like a bed, with something or someone laid on it.

The League approached carefully and studied the figure on the bed. It was a human skeleton, clad in ancient robes of green and silver. It lay in an attitude of peace, bony hands resting on the breast, holding a book.

"Salazar?" Asked Ziva.

"Don't see who else it could be." Answered Duncan. "Wonder why he didn't have himself put in that sarcophagus?"

"Because that thing's more than just a coffin." Daniel said grimly. "If there is someone in it, then we are in as much trouble as we've ever been in!"

The Doctor carefully prised the book from the skeletal grip and opened it at the place marked by a silk tassel. "This is Salazar's writing," he said, "listen!"

_To the Golden Knight of my visions, greeting,_

_This be the last testament of Salazar Slytherin, wizard, of Black Fen._

_For the first time in three centuries I write of my own will, in my mother tongue. Much of what has passed in those years I cannot recall. That which I can remember seems an evil dream. I much fear me that the Thing which hath laid hold on me these three hundred years hath wrought much ill in my form. Evil I cannot undo._

_Would that I had heeded the words of the priest Im-Ho-Tep, what time I roused him from his hidden tomb. The Temple of Nephren-Ka was indeed a place unholy, and what I brought from there hath undone both myself and, I greatly fear, much else._

_But the Horror's greed for life hath been its own undoing. For it used my mind and body to make the Philosopher's Stone. But when I drank of the Elixir, it slew the Thing swiftly, yet not before it could unleash its venom within me. The Elixir keepeth life in me, but at cost of great pain. I might make use of the Sarcophagus, but fear that it would also mend the Horror, which I would not do._

_Between what Elixir I have, for I destroyed the Stone forthwith, and the blood of Unicorns, I will live long enough to set such wards about this Keep as only the foretold Golden Knight shall breach. I have laid the Key which thou seekest upon the throne which the Thing made for itself in its pride. Once thou hast raised it, all I have made shall fall._

_When this last task be accomplished, I will lay me down to sleep. After too long and too harmful a life, I look for no salvation hereafter._

_Salazar Slytherin._

"I guess you're the Golden Knight, Sir Anthony!" Dante mocked gently. "Better go see what he left for you."

"Wait!" Daniel said grimly. "I have to be sure..."

The rotten fabric of the robes crumbled under his strong fingers, but he managed to lay open the rib-cage. He peered in, then said, "There!". They all looked, seeing something among the human bones that didn't belong, something wrapped around the spine and stretching up into the skull.

"Looks like he had a snake inside him." Harry commented.

"That's a Gou'a'ould skeleton." Daniel said coldly. "Ra punished Isis and Osiris by taking them out of their hosts and imprisoning them in canopic jars. The same must have happened to this one. Salazar must have found the jar and opened it. Once out of hibernation, the Gou'a'ould would have seized the nearest host – Salazar."

Harry was frowning thoughtfully. "Some of the histories say Salazar's personality changed suddenly. As if he wasn't evil at first, then changed almost overnight."

"The Salazar I knew wasn't a nice man." The Doctor stated. "But I wouldn't have called him evil."

"Well, if he was host to a Gou'a'ould, that would have changed. They are, or were, the most vicious, arrogant species in the Galaxy, apart from the Daleks themselves." Daniel sighed. "He was lucky that Elixir worked as it did, and he was right not to go into the Sarcophagus. It would have cleared the toxin the Gou'a'ould released into him, all right. But it would also have restored the symbiote to life. Let's go look at this throne."

There was nothing on the seat, but set into the back was a silver Ourobouros, a serpent devouring its own tail.

"That's the Key." Said the Doctor. "Take it, Tony, I don't think any of the rest of us could."

Iron Man reached out and pulled the Key from its socket. Almost at once there was a deep rumbling, and the room began to shake. The windows shattered, and chunks of stone started to fall from the ceiling.

"The whole place is coming down!" Dante yelled.

The throne abruptly sank into the floor and the wall behind it slid upwards, revealing a polished wooden slide.

"That's our way out," Harry said, and gestured to Ziva, "Ladies first!"

Ziva looked about to argue, but was foiled by Dante picking her up bodily and tossing her onto the slide. She vanished with a squawk. One by one, the others followed, except for Iron Man, who took off out of a window.

The slide deposited them at the foot of the rapidly-crumbling Keep, and nobody wasted a second in hot-footing it towards the entrance tunnel. Gathered beside the Support Unit, the League watched the ancient Keep of Salazar Slytherin collapse into a mound of rubble.

"Well," said Duncan, "we certainly brought the house down that time!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Eight: The Calm...**

_Hogwarts Castle: May 26th 2011_

Though the League now had all five Keys, and they knew their mission was urgent, the events at Hold and Keep had taken it out of all of them. Old campaigners all, they knew they would function better for a rest-day. Rather than fly back to London, they decided to rest up in the comfortable surroundings of Hogwarts. Tony had, however, used the Support Units' comms array to alert Sir John to their success.

Harry took the opportunity for a quiet word with Ziva whilst ostensibly showing her the Qudditch arena. By now he knew her well enough to guess that the best approach would be a direct one.

"The Doctor gets on your nerves, doesn't he?" He asked.

Ziva sighed. "I suppose I should be more tolerant, but... Look, Harry, I work with three incredibly clever people. Tim McGee knows everything about computers and a lot of other things, but to talk to him, he's just a nice, kind of shy, young man. Abby – well, there's nobody quite like Abby – but she doesn't take herself too seriously. As for Ducky, well, he's like a teacher, the only use he has for everything he knows is to pass it on.

"On the other hand, I've met two people who just remind me of the Doctor, and I had no patience with them either. One's a guy from the BAU – Behavioural Analysis Unit – in the FBI. He looks like a kid just out of college, has five doctorates, and needs a translator to talk to normal people. The other is a woman from the Jeffersonian, a forensic anthropologist, who just assumes that everyone but her is completely dumb!

"The Doctor is the worst, though. It's the way he goes on as if he knows everything and we know nothing, and there's no point explaining anything because we wouldn't understand! It drives me crazy! Why does he do that?"

"Well," said Harry slowly, "mostly because it's true, Ziva. Look, I've known two geniuses in my lifetime. The Doctor's one, the other was my old headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. They're both exactly the same way. They're cleverer than other people, they know it, everybody else knows it, so why bother making a big thing about being like everybody else?

"The Doctor _does _know more than the rest of us, Ziva, and he _is_ much more intelligent. But that's not what annoys you about him, is it? It's just the fact that he makes no bones about it, the same way he makes no bones about not being a fighter, or a wizard. You can't really criticise the man for being honest, can you?"

"No," Ziva shook her head, "I guess a lot of it is that next to everyone else in the group I feel so stupid! I mean, Daniel has all his history and languages, and Tony Stark is one of the most brilliant men around. Dante knows all about the demon worlds, you know all that magic. All I know is police work and soldiering, but you're a cop as well and Duncan's got hundreds of years more experience!"

Harry laughed. "You're only looking at half the picture, Ziva! Daniel's a nerd – put him in a place without archaeology or translations, and he'd be lost. Me, I left the Muggle world at eleven and now I now next to nothing about it any more. Duncan's a soldier and an art dealer, but doesn't know police work. Tony wouldn't know where to start being either a copper or a soldier! As for Dante and the Doctor, well, neither of them is fully human -the Doctor isn't human at all – so there'll be things we all know instinctively that they don't.

"We're all here for what we do know, Ziva, not what we don't!"

After lunch, a summons to the Head's study had the League treated to the sight of an irritated Argus Filch showing Commander Bond into the room. "Time was," he muttered as he left, "Muggles weren't allowed here!"

McGonagall, to everyone's surprise, greeted Bond like an old friend, hugging him warmly.

"James!" She said happily. "I didn't expect to see you until the summer! We should get together more often, you know. I haven't seen you or Simon since Christmas."

"I've written, Minerva," Bond replied, "and so has Simon. By the way, I was in the States last week, and popped in to see Illya. He sends his love and says he'll write soon."

"How's retirement suiting him?" She asked. "I was surprised when he wrote to tell me he was stepping down."

"Oh, he's happy as Larry!" Bond asserted. "When UNCLE was absorbed into SHIELD, he felt it was the right time. The only fly in the ointment was poor Napoleon. After all he'd done, dying of cirrhosis in a cheap motel in Las Vegas was a Hell of a way to go! Especially since he could have come to any of us, any time!"

"No, he couldn't," Minerva told him, "he had too much pride. The wrong kind of pride. Napoleon never forgave them for passing him over and making Illya head of UNCLE. He never forgave Illya for accepting, either, or any of us for supporting Illya. He was too much like you, James."

"Not that much," Bond asserted, "I've got sense enough to know I'm a field man, not a desk-jockey!

"Anyway, we'll have a good chat in a bit, Minerva, but right now could you leave me alone to brief the team?"

She left, and Bond turned to the League.

"Sir John asked me to convey his compliments on a good job so far. But now the sticky part starts. We've been in communication with Dr Doom, and he's sent us these personal warrants for each of you. They allow you all free access to Latverian territory, and the right to commandeer support from local forces.

"However, there are limitations. Should you enter any Latverian scientific, military or industrial premises, you are to be escorted at all times. You are also required to avoid all contact with Latverian civilians except in dire emergency. Doom has made it clear that he expects you to travel as directly as possible to the Vault, do what is necessary there, and leave as soon a practicable afterwards. We have also been informed that Doom is aware that Mr Stark's bodyguard will be with you, and that he will hold Mr Stark personally liable for any collateral damage caused by Iron Man!

"Our own sources indicate that the civilian population for fifty miles around the danger zone has been evacuated. Satellite scans show increased energy generation and consumption in the area we take to be the Dalek ship. They're awake and active, but what they're up to, we can't tell.

"Now, there's a military base about thirty miles East of here. We've had some of Mr Stark's people come up there with equipment to resupply your Support Unit. We've also arranged for you to stop and refuel your aircraft at a base just outside the Latverian border. Everything's arranged for you to leave tomorrow.

"I suggest that, unless you need to return to London for any reason, you proceed directly to Latveria tomorrow.. The level of activity in the ship indicates that the matter is becoming increasingly urgent.

"Rest well today. Good luck."

The day passed quietly enough. The Doctor sequestered himself in the Library, Daniel spent time with the Professor of Ancient Runes, Tony and Ziva were cornered by the Professor of Muggle Studies, whilst Duncan sat in the the great Hall, swapping lies with the ghosts. Dante spent the day flirting indiscriminately with the Sixth and Seventh Year girls.

Harry visited some old haunts, including the Room of Requirement – which had not suffered as badly from the Fiendfyre Curse as he had initially thought – and the Gryffindor Common Room. He even found his old Potions textbook in the Room of Requirement, the one with all the notations made by the Half-Blood Prince. That evening, after dinner, Harry ventured out to the white tomb that stood by the lake. Nearby was a simple grave with a modest headstone that simply read _Severus Snape_. Snape had also left instructions that he was to be buried in the school grounds. Harry levitated a patch of earth from near the head of the grave and placed the book carefully underneath it.

"You always were a sentimentalist, Mr Potter." Said a familiar voice. The ghost of Severus Snape came forward and, in a most un-Snape-like fashion, sat down on his own headstone, stretching his long legs in front of him.

"Professor?" Harry was astonished. "I thought you would have..."

"Passed over?" Snape shook his head. "You are not the only sentimentalist here, Harry. There are things I wished to say to you, and I remained here in the hope that you might come one day."

"What do you need to say?" Harry asked. "You told me everything when you gave me your memories back then. You loved my mother, you lost her to your worst enemy, then she died and you couldn't do anything about it. It was a horrible, tragic mess, but it was nobody's fault except maybe Voldemort's."

"There's more to it than that, Harry." Snape said sadly. "I had every intention, when you came to Hogwarts, to protect you and be a mentor to you. Then I saw you. I am sure you are weary of hearing this, Harry, but you do look extraordinarily like your father. All I saw was the eyes of the woman I loved looking at me out of the face of the man I despised. I could not bring myself to treat you in any way except the way I had always wanted to treat James, if he ever came into my power. I am truly sorry for that, Harry."

"It's OK," Harry said. "My Muggle cousin Dudley told me that you always find one teacher at school who's got it in for you. With me, it was you, with Hermione, it was Trelawney. At least you weren't two-faced about it!"

Snape smiled, then said. "There's another thing, Harry. I always refused to see your ability as a wizard, accused you of leaning on more talented friends. I was wrong there on two counts. You are a more than competent wizard, clearly. But those friends, they were only as talented as they were because of you, of your leadership. Miss Granger, or Mrs Weasley, as I expect she is now, has that specific combination of eidetic memory and mild obsessive-compulsive disorder which teachers often mistake for high intelligence – you taught her how to think outside the box. Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom both overcame their self-esteem issues, in large part due to you. Even Draco Malfoy, of whom I despaired at one point, has managed, so I gather, to turn his life round because of you. These achievements, to my mind, quite overshadow your victory over Tom Riddle.

"And on that note, I see a light over there, which I believe I am expected to go into. I expect to see your mother soon, and your father. I am as overdue for a long talk with James as I was for one with you, Harry."

With that, the ghost of Snape rose and, with a brief farewell gesture, set off across the grass. After a few yards, he simply disappeared. Harry shook his head. He was used to talking with ghosts, of course, but the last one he'd expected to see was Snapes'!

Then he became aware that he was being watched. He spun, wand out, to face a tall man wearing a blue tunic and long red and gold cloak with a high, elaborate collar. The man had a strong, grave-looking face, thick dark hair, white at the temples, and a small, neat beard and moustache. Harry lowered his wand, knowing how useless it would be.

"Dr Stephen Strange, I presume?" He said.

The Sorceror Supreme inclined his head. "Mr Harry Potter. I am honoured to finally meet you. I suppose I must now explain to you why I never confronted Lord Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head. "I've done my reading, Dr Strange. By comparison with Chthon, Baron Mordo, Dormammu or Shuma-Gorath, Voldemort was what your countrymen would call a 'penny-ante thug'. He was mine to deal with, you had more important things to do."

"And you dealt with him well, Harry." Dr Strange allowed. "Now, my time is short, other pressing matters call me away. But your current foe is more potent than Voldemort, and I could not in conscience allow you to confront them without at least some help. Hold out your wand."

Harry did so. Strange held his hands together, as if praying, and began to mutter to himself. A clear light surrounded his hands and he slowly drew them apart. Between them writhed a streak of what looked like silver smoke. Strange continued chanting as the smoke grew brighter and thicker, then he released it with a gesture. It floated toward Harry and wrapped itself in a spiral around his wand. Then in a blaze of light it solidified. Harry's wand was now wrapped with a spiral of thick silver wire along which tiny letters were etched.

"A wand enhancer," Strange explained, "A wand, any wand, can only channel a part of its owner's power without destroying itself. With that enhancer in place, you can channel your power to the fullest extent without risking your wand. Regretfully, I can only allow you to retain the periapt until the end of your current mission – it must not fall into unready hands.

"It's a pity there isn't time to teach you my way of wandless magic, but that remains for your younger son to learn in due time."

"Albus?" Harry's mind flooded with questions, but Strange held up a hand.

"I can tell you no more now, Harry. But both you and Albus will know when the time is right. We will meet again then. Farewell!"

Strange gathered his cloak about him and vanished without even the boom of disapparation. Harry, who had been getting enigmatic pronouncements for most of his life, shrugged, filed the matter away for future reference, and went off back to the Castle.

_Interlude: the Dark Forest_

The HYDRA captain did not know, or want to know, how he and his men had come to this place. The man with the scarred face and odd-coloured eyes (one blue, one brown) had brought them here, then vanished. But it was not the place of a soldier to question orders, or anything, but to carry out his mission. It was for the Cause, for an ordered, peaceful world free from the inferior races, and the mutants and monsters they had created. That was enough.

With his men and the silver Dreadnaught behind him, he made his way through the trees toward the castle where the freaks conspired against the Master Race. His orders were simple – infiltrate the Castle, kill everything in it, and retrieve five artefacts.

Then a chill wind sprang up, and the trees began to rustle and creak. Suddenly, everything was dark. He could hear shots, screams, great booming voices. He could only see the Dreadnaught and his two personal guards close to him. When he looked back, there was Stygian blackness, with a sense of great shapes moving in it. The shots were growing fewer, as were the screams. "With me!", he yelled, and plunged forward, coming unexpectedly into a starlit glade.

A shadowy figure, perhaps eight feet tall, stood in front of him, with a massive crossbow aimed. There was a wicked hissing sound in the air, and both his guards fell, transfixed by arrows. A gigantic shadow blocked the stars, and the Dreadnaught was suddenly yanked upwards - there was a shriek of tortured metal, then nothing. The huge man in front of him spoke.

"Didn't they tell yeh why folk shouldn't come into this forest?" he asked. The starlight showed a bearded face with piercing black eyes. "Hogwarts isn't a safe place to be unless yeh know what yeh're doin'. Now just yeh come along with me. There's people up at the Castle will want to talk with yeh."

The captain raised his weapon, the last sound he heard was the thrum of the crossbow's string.

"Bloody fool!" Hagrid shook his massive head, then looked up. A figure even more oversized than himself was leaning over him. The body of the Dreadnaught hung inert from one vast hand, while its head rested in the palm of the other.

"Broke it, Haggers." said Grawp contritely.

"Don't matter," Hagrid told him. "We'll find somebody to fix it for yeh." A black-maned Centaur trotted up and Hagrid turned to him. "All done, Bane?"

Bane nodded. "Only these got out, and one other, who was commanding their rear. We didn't chase him, he was heading into the Withywindle Valley."

"He'll not come out o' there, then." Hagrid noted. "All this ruckus will've stirred Old Man Willow up good and proper! Like as not the Merfolk'll find 'im when the body drifts downstream to the lake."

He turned to face another towering figure who had come out of the trees. "Got 'em all, then?"

The other spoke slowly, in a deep voice. "Hmm, yes. All gone. Huorns will bury them. It is long since we fought, by stock and stone, and the weapons of Men are much changed. But they had never heard of us before, nor seen us, and none will remember us, so we are safe a while yet. We are the Last Few, and this forest has been our home for years beyond even our count. It would be good if we could spend our last years here in peace."

"Well, Bregalad," Hagrid told him, "As long as Hogwarts is here, this forest'll be safe, I promise yeh that."

_Latveria, The Vault: May 27th 2011_

It had been a long flight across Europe, so the League had decided to spend the night at the EU airbase just outside Latveria. From there they had made the short hop to the location of the Vault, landing in a fallow field a few miles away and making the rest of the trip cross-country in the Support Unit. This was now fully-deployed as a base, nestling under an escarpment about a quarter of a mile from the looming cliff-side where the Doctor said the Vault doors were.

"Right!" Tony said. "Harry's had his wand upgraded, so I think the rest of you could do with some heavier weapons."

He pressed some buttons, and a previously-closed area of the weapon racks opened up. "This is my special candy-box for extra-special customers." He told them. "Let's see what we got."

He lifted out a bizarre-looking weapon with a pod on the end of the barrel. "This should suit you, Daniel," he announced, "based on the technology of a Gou'a'ould staff weapon, but with better accuracy and more power."

He handed the gun to Daniel, then picked a less bulky-looking, more streamlined weapon out and passed it to Ziva. "Phased plasma rifle. Working prototype, never used in the field before. You can set it to beam or bolt to cut or blast. Beam is more powerful, but drains the power-pack quicker. Here, two spare power-packs. The packs are self-charging, but you need to be careful not to drain them completely, or it won't work. Keep an eye on the gauge, if it turns red, change packs."

The gun Tony proffered to Duncan looked like an ordinary assault rifle, but heavier and bulkier. "I call this a bolt-gun or bolter." He said. "It handles like a regular gun, but the ammunition it fires is armour-piercing with an explosive core. The shell is highly heat-resistant, so the Dalek's thermal force-fields shouldn't affect it."

Finally, Tony pulled out a large, black box, which he unlocked by typing a combination into a keypad on the lid. A blue glow came out of the open box.

"This is one I didn't make." He explained. "The Avengers found it about six years ago during a case, and I took it to study. The guy who was using it was some kind of demon and he left it behind when we sent him back to Hell. It's kind of a cross between a crossbow and a ray-gun, but we've never been able to make it work. I figured maybe you could use it, Dante?"

He lifted the odd-looking weapon out of the box, and Dante's eyes widened.

"That's the Artemis!" He exclaimed. "I haven't seen that for over twenty years! I found it, and lost it, somewhere in the Temen-ni-Gru when I was a teenager. It's been a while, but I think I can remember how to use it."

"Right!" Said Tony, "No point offering you a weapon, Doctor, right? I've set the computer in here to defence mode, so we can get covering fire from the railgun if we need it. I've just got to get into my working clothes. See you outside, guys!"

He made for the cylindrical chamber at the back of the rig. As the rest of them exited the vehicle, Duncan said. "So that's what that extra room's for!"

"Well," Daniel replied, "Tony could hardly change into that armour in a phone box, could he?"

"Some people," Ziva commented, "have no respect for tradition!"

"He could change in my phone box." The Doctor said.

"So could a whole theatrical company!" Harry told him.

Just then, there was a whooshing sound, and Iron Man shot out through a hatch in the roof of the vehicle and touched down lightly beside them. "Shall we?" He invited.

The cliff-side was grim-looking enough, vertical and rugged, but there was no sign of a door.

"Right!" Said the Doctor. "This is how it works. There's a holo-field hiding the Door, that responds to my sonic screwdriver. As soon as the Door becomes visible, Daniel, you start reading Rowena's scroll. That'll make the locks appear, there are three of them. Tony, you'll need to put Salazar's Key into the socket, that'll open the keyholes of the other two locks. Harry, you have Gryffindor's Key, Ziva, you have Helga's. You'll need to unlock at exactly the same time – one lock is steel, the other's gold, so you'll know which one to use. Dante, Duncan, you need to cover us all. The doors open outward, so as soon as they start to move, everyone needs to get back.

"Everyone ready? Right, here we go!"

Everything went exactly as the Doctor had said it would, up to the moment that the doors stood fully open. Inside was large, rough-walled cave, with no sign of life.

"What? No welcome wagon?" Dante said. "Don't these Daleks have any hospitality training?"

"No," the Doctor told him. "not really any manners, either. The nearest they come to polite is telling you they're going to exterminate you just before they do it."

"I'll recon," Ziva said, and stepped through the Door, only to be stopped short by an invisible barrier.

"What the...?" She exclaimed. The Doctor probed the area with his screwdriver.

"Force field." He announced. "A Dalek one. Seems they don't want any visitors."

Just then the voice of the computer, Jarvis, came over their headsets.

"Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen. I detect thirty Daleks assembling just beyond the entrance cave. I would advise falling back to the Support Unit immediately.

As the League retreated rapidly, Harry shouted to the Doctor, "I thought you said there were only twelve!"

"There were!" The Doctor replied. "Tony, I need to get to your sensor array!"

"Help yourself." Iron Man agreed. "Just don't soup it up so much I can't use it any more, afterwards!"

It took the Doctor only a few moments to hack into the base code of the Support Unit and reconfigure the sensors. He began a fast probe of the area the saucer should be in, and didn't like what he saw.

Outside, the League took up positions around the rig, watching the Door and listening to Jarvis cool announcement of the enemy advance. Finally, the first one emerged into the sunlight.

Harry had never seen a Dalek 'in the flesh' before, but recognised them from Hermione and Ron's descriptions. The almost comical pepperpot shape, the scanning eye-stalks, the handling sucker and the silvery tubes of their lethal ray-guns. The creatures appeared to be in no hurry, forming up carefully. Half of them made up a phalanx-like formation on the ground. The rest soared into the air in a ragged line.

The Doctor's voice crackled in their headsets.

"Oh, this is bad, this is very bad! It wasn't just a squad saucer, it was a colony unit! There are a hundred Daleks inside in hibernation, and they're waking up as we speak!"

"Not good." Duncan allowed. "Any more bad news?"

"Yes," said the Doctor grimly. "There's a Progenitor Unit at the core of that thing. It's powering up, and if it comes to full function it can spit out another hundred battle-ready Daleks every thirty minutes! We have to get into the saucer and shut it down!"

"I'm having words with Kingsley!" Growled Harry. "After this, I'm definitely due a pay-rise!"

"Aw, c'mon!" said Dante, "This is gonna be more fun than I've had since I last went to Hell!"

"In case I don't get the chance later, Dante," Ziva said, "let me tell you now that I've always thought you were completely insane!"

Just then, one of the floating Daleks - one with red trim on its armour – began to speak in a grating, electronic voice:

"The mo-ment has come. The Last Time-Lord is be-fore us. Once he is dead, the Da-leks will ful-fil our Dest-iny. The con-quest of Earth will be on-ly the be-ginn-ing. For-ward! Ex-ter-min-ate!"

The others took up the cry as they advanced on the League:

"Ex-ter-min-ate! _Ex-ter-min-ate! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!_"


	9. Chapter 9

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Nine: ….The Storm**

_Latveria, The Vault: May 27th 2011_

The Daleks were clearly in no hurry, advancing at a steady pace, squawking their warcry. It occurred to Duncan that this tactic was meant to panic the victims into running, turning the battle into a hunt. A tactic that was unlikely to work, given that every member of the League had proven their iron nerve in fight after fight.

"Nobody fire until you can see the blue of their lenses!" Dante called, half-seriously.

Actually, it was the Support Unit that fired first. There was a deafening scream, and a projectile shot overhead, trailing a plume of heated plasma, to slam into a Dalek in the front row of the land-based phalanx. The creature was flung back and up, screeching, in a cloud of shredded armour.

"Bloody Hell!" Harry marvelled.

"How did it do that?" The Doctor wanted to know.

"Not steel bolts, adamantium." Stark replied with relish in his tone.

The event had caused the Dalek advance to hesitate for a second, but unlike a minigun, a railgun is not a rapid-fire weapon, so with another chorus of "Ex-ter-min-ate!", the aliens charged, firing a volley as they came.

Harry flung up a shield that covered himself, Ziva and Daniel. Duncan rolled to one side, and Dante backflipped up to the roof of the vehicle. Iron Man ignored the Dalek beams, launching himself into the air to intercept the flying Daleks. He triggered his repulsors, sending the red Dalek spinning out of control.

The next few minutes were pretty hectic, but when the Doctor was able to take stock from inside the vehicle, matters had begun to settle. Daniel, Duncan and Ziva had found a nest under the escarpment, among a pile of fallen boulders. They were protected from the rear by the landscape, and under the firing arc of the Support Units' heavy guns. That, along with the advanced weaponry Tony had given them, allowed them to keep the Daleks pretty occupied. Iron Man remained airborne, using his repulsor beams and assorted other tricks built into his suit to wreak havoc among any Daleks that took to the air. Dante and Harry both stayed on the move. The demon-hunter was fast and almost invulnerable, and his Artemis weapon seemed able to lock on to several targets at once. Harry, the Doctor remembered, had been a Quidditch player of note in his teens, and thus probably preferred being mobile. His natural agility and powerful shield spells were more than enough to keep him uninjured.

_Time I did something_. The Doctor thought. His usual reluctance to take life wavered somewhat in the face of Daleks, but grabbing a gun and diving into the fray was not playing to his strengths. He began to explore the possibilities of the Support Unit. The communications array included a powerful microwave transmitter, which he quickly reconfigured to project a Maser beam. He also set to work on souping up the Units' already advanced Electronic Warfare systems. These were Imperial Daleks, not Davros' Advanced Daleks, so their protection against such attacks was less well developed. If the Doctor could interfere with the Dalek communications and impair the functions of their battlesuits, it would make life easier for the rest of the League. That done, he set about analysing the sensor readings from below the cliff. Somehow, they would have to get inside the saucer and disable the Progenitor Unit, and for that they would need a map and a few access codes.

Ziva was getting to like the phased-plasma rifle. It was surprisingly light, for one thing, and had no discernible recoil. Set to pulse, it blew satisfying holes in Dalek armour at a good range, the power-packs lasted well, were as easy to change as a standard clip, and recharged quickly. When she discovered the laser-targeting system, her day was complete!

Daniel had been less sure of his gun. Gou'a'ould staff weapons were designed to make a big flash and bang, blow messy wounds in unarmoured victims, and generally look cool and scary. This gun, however, was a vast improvement. It used the same energy-type, but concentrated it more, wasting less in flash and putting far more behind the bolt. The weapon was more accurate than its ancestor, and knocked Daleks backwards, blowing chunks off their armoured shells.

Anyone less strong and experienced than Duncan would have had problems with the bolt-gun. The thing was heavy, as heavy as some First or Second World War weapons, and had a ferocious recoil. But the explosive bolts it fired had a devastating effect on Dalek armour. A single, short burst was enough to shred one of the aliens.

It need hardly be said that Dante was enjoying himself immensely. Between the Artemis, Ebony and Ivory and Rebellion, he was happily making a mess of any Dalek he could reach.

Harry was feeling his way in this fight. He'd dealt with wizards, magical creatures of varying complexions, and the occasional muggle. Armoured and bloodthirsty alien cyborgs were something new, however. The first thing he realised was that Dr Strange's enhancer had more than tripled the power of his spells. His shields, always tough, now withstood Dalek beams without a flicker. His first attempt at attack, a _Levicorpus_, had flung a Dalek, upside down and spinning helplessly, into the air and then smacked it into the hillside. It slid to the foot of the hill, crippled and screaming for help. _Incarcerous_ had produced, not the usual fine black cords, but thick, bright-red bands that wrapped another Dalek like a mummy (Harry remembered Hermione going on about something she'd read about - the _Crimson Bands of Cyttorak_, he thought – that was the ultimate _Incarcerous_) leaving that one also screeching for help. Harry noticed that the creatures tended to panic when faced with something they couldn't understand or control.

_Time to get serious_, Harry thought. He pointed his wand at a Dalek as it came at him and cast a Reductor Curse. The result was spectacular. The Dalek armour burst open all along the front, bending back and revealing what was inside. The thing had a grey-green, rubbery skin that only thinly covered the great pulsing brain on top; a single red eye stared madly at Harry from the middle of the Kaled, and it reached for him with its tentacles. And all the while, the distorted electronic voice chanted, "Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate!" Harry, for the first time in his life, felt not a shred of pity or compassion. He had met the thing's eye, and there was nothing there but madness and hatred – even Tom Riddle had had more humanity left, at least _he_ had been affected by the death of Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry raised his wand again, "_Avada Kedavra_!" the green bolt hit the Kaled square in the eye, and the creature shrivelled and died.

Harry turned away, and a Dalek swooped down at him. Closer, much closer than was needed to shoot him. Then something covered his face, and the world went black. He heard the Dalek saying "Do not re-sist!", then something was _sucking_ at his mind. Not like a Dementor, drawing out all the bad memories, but everything – everything he knew, all his memories, everything he was – was being drawn from him. Harry fought, resisted as he had done with the Imperius Curse, but it hurt, and the more he struggled, the greater the pain became. "Do not re-sist! Do not re-sist!" But Harry sensed that it didn't care about hurting him, it was just that if he didn't resist, the process was easier and quicker for it. As the pain grew, Harry realised he was not fighting to halt the process – that was not possible – but to retain, to hold onto, what was being taken. He couldn't prevent the Dalek taking a 'copy' of him, but he could keep the 'original'. The pain got worse, but Harry steeled his will.

Then there was a shrill, electronic scream, the pain stopped, and the light flooded back. Harry dropped to his knees, shaking with relief, and looked up. The Dalek in front of him was twitching and spitting parks, it was also transfixed by Dante's five-foot blade. The Hell-forged steel, with the demon-hunters' super-strength behind it, had punched through the polycarbide armour as if it was cardboard. Dante grunted, lifting the skewered Dalek off the ground, then swinging it round so that it flew off the blade and smashed into one of it's fellows. Then he ran to Harry.

"You OK, pal?" He asked.

"Think so," Harry told him, getting to his feet. "How're we doing?"

"Not so good, not so bad." Dante allowed. "The Doctor's up to something in the rig, don't know what, but I bet the Daleks won't like it. Duncan, Daniel and Ziva are holding their own, but we've only taken down about ten out of thirty, and the Doctor just told us that there's more on the way!"

"Where's Tony?"

"Just saw him smashing two Daleks."

"What with?"

"Another Dalek. Let's go, pal!"

_Interlude: The Control Room_

Black Leader was observing the battle through the viewer. The Humans were holding out surprisingly well, but it had been a long time since any Dalek had been foolish enough to underestimate this species. They were as pernicious as the TimeLords, and though they were not immortal, they bred at a ferocious rate. But the Doctor was there, _Ka Faraq Gatn_, the Bringer of Darkness, the Oncoming Storm. If he could be exterminated, then there would be one less barrier to Dalek destiny. Black Leader turned and addressed the Dalek next to it.

"Re-port."

"The down-load of the wiz-ard's abi-li-ties was succ-ess-ful. Trans-mission was com-plete, stor-age is con-firmed."

Black Leader swung back to the viewer, in time to see the image flicker and fade. At the same time, it's comm-link became unclear. Reports from the field began to come in – control systems were being interfered with, the battle-suits were becoming less responsive. Only the Doctor could do that. Action was needed, immediately.

"Red Lea-der The-ta, att-ack with the re-main-ing force. Sau-cer crew, stand by to def-end. Rep-ort sta-tus of Pro-gen-it-or U-nit."

"U-nit will be func-tion-al in twen-ty rels."

"A-lert! A-lert! More hu-man for-ces clo-sing in!"

Black Leader made its decision. "Down-load wiz-ard da-ta to my mem-or-y bank. De-fend the Pro-gen-it-or U-nit."

"Is it me," Ziva asked, "or are these guys getting a little off their stroke?"

"Their aim is getting worse," Duncan agreed, "and they're less quick at dodging."

"I'll bet," Daniel said, "the Doctor's been messing about in there, jamming their wavelengths and bollixing their control systems."

"May not help," Iron Man's voice came over the comlink, "there's about seventy more guests coming to the party!"

"So we've got them outnumbered, then!" Dante was irrepressible.

Nevertheless, things began to get more than a little desperate. Harry had just managed to blow another Dalek to bits when he felt one behind him and turned too late. But just as the Dalek fired, it was struck by what looked like a bolt of lightning. It's beam went wide, and it hung in the air, spitting sparks and screaming. Harry split open the armour and killed the mutant inside, then turned to his rescuer. He saw a towering figure in green tunic, hood and cloak over steel armour. The face was hidden by a brutal-looking mask.

"Greetings, Harry Potter," said the armoured man in a deep, rich voice. "I am Doom. Your ally for the present, but in due course your master. Remember that!"

Harry nodded his thanks, but didn't let himself be tempted into a reply. He knew Doom's reputation for arrogance, and had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to the man's bombast. He turned back to the battle, seeing that several hundred troops had joined the fight. The weapons they carried were some kind of laser rifle, not as effective as Tony's advanced tech, but powerful enough to seriously damage a Dalek if the soldiers concentrated their fire.

Harry and Doom plunged back into the fray, taking down another three Daleks between them. The aliens seemed to be less efficient than they had been, but were still taking a dreadful toll on the troops. A soldier took a beam full on and collapsed at Harry's feet. He bent to see if anything could be done, only to see a gaping hole in the chest that revealed a mass of melted metal and plastic, sparking with electrical shorts. He looked up at Doom.

"Robots?" He asked.

"Of course!" Doom replied. "A ruler should not risk his subjects in battle when it is not necessary!"

_Or give weapons to real people who might choose to disobey him!_ Harry thought.

Then he heard the Doctor's voice. "We need to get inside! The Progenitor Unit will be online in fifteen minutes, and then there'll be no stopping them!"

"Don't see how we can." Tony said grimly. "Even with the reinforcements, and you messing the Daleks around, we're still stalemated!"

Then a shadow fell over the area, and the air was filled with a roaring sound. Harry looked up to see some kind of gigantic aircraft hovering overhead. For a horrible minute, he thought it might be the Dalek craft, but then silver beams began to strike down from it, each one destroying a Dalek at a single blast. At the same time, more troops, in unfamiliar uniforms, stormed into the fray, using weapons similar to the bolt-gun, if not quite as formidable.

"Those are UNIT troops!" The Doctor yelled in Harry's ear. "And is that the _Valiant_?"

"The _Valiant_ went down in '08," Daniel told him, "that's the _Dauntless_. I helped retrofit her with Asgard weapons."

"Never mind, let's move!" Duncan rapped.

The battle had swung away from where Harry was standing, as the Daleks concentrated on the greater threat.

"Go, Potter!" Doom commanded. "Do what you must. But you and I will speak later."

Harry dashed toward the Support Unit, seeing the others also converging on it. The Doctor leapt out as Harry reached it.

"The Vault, quick!" He shouted, and took off at a sprint.

Harry, who was very fast, caught up with him within a few metres and shoved the TimeLord behind him.

"You're not armed!" He barked. "Stay behind me!"

Dante came up beside Harry, Daniel and Ziva flanked the Doctor, Duncan took the rear and Iron Man covered from above.

"Right!" Harry said. "Now we go, together!"

"You look out for each other, and nobody gets left behind, right, pal?" Dante grinned at Harry.

The League moved forward, quickly, in a tight knot, bristling with weapons. They skirted the battle and made for the open Vault. A line of six Daleks stood across it, clearly on guard. With a whoosh and a roar, Iron Man charged the line. His repulsors knocked two back into the cave, and he slammed into a third, crushing it into a mass of twisted metal. Harry shattered another with a Reductor, and Dante finished it with the Artemis. The thunder of Duncan's bolt-gun was followed by the wasplike snarl of the plasma rifle and the scream of Daniel's gun. Two more Daleks were destroyed. The two that Iron Man had knocked back into the cave fell victim to another volley from the League.

There was no time to examine the high, vaulted chamber as the Doctor chivvied them toward an arched doorway through which a harsh white light shone. Once inside, he led them without hesitation along a series of smooth, curved metal corridors. As they went, Daniel asked:

"Doctor, how come you didn't know the _Valiant_ had been destroyed? Files say you were there in 2008."

The Doctor shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, 2008 hasn't happened yet! That's why I didn't ask too much about it. Spoilers, as an old friend would say."

"Well," Duncan said, "at least you know Earth survived!"

"No, I don't." The Doctor replied. "Until I get there, I won't know whether time's in flux or not. If it is, then the outcome could change and this would never have happened. I've gone back on my own time-track before, and it can get messy. I once spent a week in Rome with Julius Caesar, then went a year back in time to see him get murdered before I met him. I have double memories."

Ziva rolled her eyes at Harry, but said nothing.

"Listen!" The Doctor went on. "These saucers have an operating crew of fifteen. Dalek tactical doctrine dictates that the crew guard the craft. Now, three were destroyed a thousand years ago, and you just took down another six. That means there are six more Daleks somewhere around here."

"My sensors tell me there are five just around that corner." Iron Man said. "They'll have heard us, but they're not moving."

"Guarding the Progenitor Unit." The Doctor said. "As soon as we show ourselves, they'll fire."

"Then we need to bring them to us, and make sure we see them first." Harry whispered. "You lot ever hear of a Disillusionment Charm?"

A few moments later, Dante stuck his head round the corner and yelled, "Hey, Dome-head! Your mama was an espresso machine!"

The Doctor had predicted that the Dalek's aggressive tendencies would override their tactical sense, and as usual, he was correct. Five Daleks came round the corner at high speed to face an empty corridor. For a moment they froze, then Hell broke loose!

It was, without a doubt, the most spectacular, if short-lived, indoor firework display Harry had ever seen. When it was over, Iron Man and Dante shoved the smouldering wreckage aside and the Doctor used his sonic screwdriver on the heavy door the Daleks had been guarding.

The Progenitor Chamber was not as impressive as the League thought it would be. A medium-sized circular room with a pedestal on which stood a hexagonal device about a foot high that glowed with a blue light. Numerous thick cables led from the pedestal along conduits in the floor to exit ports in the walls.

"Oh, look at that!" The Doctor breathed. "I've never seen one this close! A Dalek Progenitor Unit! That little box stores all the DNA of the perfect Kaled mutant, along with all the specifications for the suit. With enough power, it can pull raw matter out of any environment short of deep space and re-programme it to create an endless stream of Daleks. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Davros may have been twisted and insane, but he was a genius!

"But I'm better! Oh, yes! I can do this. I can change the programming on the Unit. I can take all the hatred, all the madness out of the Daleks. Think of it, a race with all the power, all the intelligence, of the Daleks, dedicated to helping, rather than killing. All I have to do..."

There was a thunderous report, and the Progenitor Unit shattered. The Doctor spun to see Dante lowering one of his heavy pistols. The demon-hunter shook his head.

"Leopards don't change their spots, Doc. And painting them doesn't change what they are, either. Anyway, even if you could change them, Angels are every bit as dangerous as Demons, take it from me!"

"Well," said the Doctor bitterly, "We'll never find out now, will we?"

Then the room lurched, a humming sound started up, and the lights dimmed slightly. The Doctor looked around.

"This thing is taking off!" He said. "Come on!"

As they ran, the Doctor explained. "There's one crew member left. The commander, the Black Leader. Once the Progenitor Unit stopped sucking all the power, there's enough to get us off the ground. If this thing is armed..."

The Control Room was a dome-shaped room at the very apex of the saucer. At the centre of the room was a kind of dais, surrounded by control panels. The Black Leader waited on the dais. As soon as they entered the room, both Dante and Iron Man opened fire, but the dais was protected by a force-field much stronger than those of individual Daleks, and their weapons were ineffective.

Through the dome, the League could see the sky, already turning the dark blue of the stratosphere. The Black Leader spoke: "Soon we will be a-bove the Earth. Then I will fire the neu-tron miss-iles. They will det-on-ate in the at-mos-phere, flood-ing the air with gam-ma rad-ia-tion. You will be ab-le to watch as all life on Earth is ex-ter-min-ated!"

"I don't think so!" Daniel had a note of triumph in his voice as he pointed. A spaceship, fully as large as the saucer, was approaching steadily. "That's the _Ixion_, the SGC's newest ship. Armed to the teeth with Asgard shields and weapons. Can you fight her, all on your own?"

"I do not need to. The miss-iles are armed. Your ship can-not pe-net-rate the sau-cer's shield be-fore they fire."

"But," said the Doctor, "what if I disable the shields?"

He turned and pointed his sonic screwdriver at a nearby panel, which immediately exploded in a shower of sparks. Tony spoke quickly and calmly, "Iron Man to _Ixion_, saucer shields down. There are missiles aimed at Earth. Fire at will!"

"Poor Will," mourned the Doctor, "What did he do to annoy so many people?"

Then everyone was falling about as the saucer shook and tilted. Lights flickered, panels exploded and there was a good deal of very ripe language! They got to their feet. The saucer was clearly crippled, the soft humming now a penetrating whine, half the lights out and most of the panels destroyed. The black Dalek looked down at them.

"Miss-ile launch ab-or-ted. Course set for Earth. Self-dest-ruct armed. The war-heads will still det-on-ate in the at-mos-phere. Earth is still doomed. As are you."

"You'll go with us!" Ziva said.

Any other being would have laughed, she supposed, but the Dalek looked calmly at her. "Em-er-gen-cy tem-por-al shift!" It said, and vanished.

"We need to get this ship away from Earth!" Duncan said. "Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his head. "All the controls are either destroyed or locked. The only interface is on there," he pointed to the dais, "and you'd need to be in a Dalek suit to access it!"

"Well, this suit isn't a Dalek suit," said Iron Man, "but it's designed to interface with any control system. Can you help me tap into this one, Doctor?"

It took valuable minutes, but both men were technical geniuses, and they did it. "Right!" Tony said. "This thing is almost out of power – most of the conduits from the core have been cut. So in order to get away from Earth's gravity, I'm going to have to cut off life-support. Now I've been in communication with the_ Ixion_, they have an Asgard teleport device, so they're going to beam you all aboard. But they can't lock on to me, because of the suit's EW systems.

"Don't worry, this suit can keep me alive underwater or in space for at least forty minutes. As soon as I get this heap to escape velocity, I'll bang out through the dome and make for the _Ixion_. They have a magnetic scoop that can rake me in. See you later!"

With that, there was a strange, shimmering sensation and they were suddenly in a rather cramped metal room. A wiry-looking man with short-cropped grey hair, wearing a coverall, was facing them.

"Seems like I'm always covering your ass, Daniel!" He said.

Daniel grinned. "Only when I'm not covering yours, Jack!"

The man called Jack grinned back, then said. "Lady and gentlemen, welcome aboard the _Ixion_, follow me to the observation deck and we'll keep an eye out for Iron Man!"

It was clear that the Dalek saucer was badly crippled. Acutely aware that their friend had only a limited time, the League watched as the minutes ticked down. It was exactly thirty-nine minutes later when Jack began speaking into his headset.

"Iron Man, you have escape velocity, get out of there! Iron Man, do you hear me! Get clear!"

There was no response. Another minute passed.

"He must have passed out!" Ziva's voice was stricken.

What's it like over there?" Harry demanded.

"Cold and dark, but there's some air left. You wouldn't want to be there for more than a couple of minutes." Jack told him.

"That's all I'll need!"

Disapparating through space was no different from doing it on Earth, Harry discovered, and he still didn't like it. In the Earthlight coming through the dome, he saw Iron Man slumped on the dais. Maybe Tony hadn't been able to disconnect himself easily. But the cold knifed through Harry, and the air was thin, he didn't have time to speculate.

"_Mobilicorpus!_" He coughed. The inert armoured figure lifted and floated over to him. Harry tilted it upright and draped one ironclad arm across his shoulders. Letting the charm take most of Iron Man's weight, Harry used the last of his fading strength to Disapparate again.

It took longer than it should have done, but then the warmth, light and air of the _Ixion_ was around him again. He collapsed to the floor, letting Iron Man fall with a mighty clatter. Then Ziva was beside him.

"Harry! Harry are you OK?"

"Cold." He muttered. Ziva responded by flinging her arms round him and holding him tight.

Meanwhile, the others were gathered around Iron Man. The Doctor used his screwdriver on the helmet, and the visor flipped open. Tony's face was pale, the eyes closed. For a moment, they feared the worst, then colour came back into the cheeks and Tony drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. He pulled himself to a sitting position and said ruefully:

"I need to make some modifications to the heating system!"

It was at that moment that the Dalek saucer chose to explode.

"Well," Jack said, "That just leaves the clean-up, guys."


	10. Chapter 10

**Unfinished Business: A Tale of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen**

**Chapter Ten: The Hunters Home From the Hill**

_Latveria, The Vault: May 27th 2011_

Rather than use the Asgard beaming device, the League was sent down to the _Dauntless_ by means of a reverse-engineered Goua'ould ring transporter. They were shown to a lower observation deck, where a middle-aged black woman who introduced herself as Brigadier Bambera welcomed them aboard and received a sharp telling-off from the Doctor for saluting him. That done, they turned their attention to the havoc below.

The Daleks, Ziva noted, clearly did not know the meaning of 'surrender'. Whether this was evidence of courage or insanity, she wasn't sure. The ground troops, both UNIT and Latverian, had suffered severe casualties, but had evolved tactics to deal with the situation. By concentrating fire, they could force Daleks into range of the Support Unit's railgun and the Doctor's improvised maser beam, or under the Asgard weapons and railguns of the _Dauntless._ It took a while, but eventually the last one went down.

Daniel had noticed that wrecked Daleks tended to suddenly disappear from the battlefield. When he asked the Brigadier about it, she grimaced.

"The _Ixion_ is beaming as much as possible up. It's a bit naughty, since the stuff is on Latverian soil, but once it's up in space, of course, that doesn't count. What we don't want is Doom getting his paws on too much Dalek technology. Latveria already produces the most sophisticated robotics in the world, we don't need him building his own Dalek army! We could beam it here, but the _Dauntless_ is in Doom's air-space. Legally, he could detain us and make us hand the stuff over, but he can't touch the _Ixion, _which is legally US soil."

Shortly after that, the League ringed down beside the Support Unit, under instructions to get back to their aircraft and leave Latveria as quickly as possible. But before they could do so, Doom strode over to them.

"I shall not delay your leaving for long. I wish to speak with Potter for a moment." He looked at Harry and said, "Follow me."

With that, he Disapparated, appearing on a ledge of the escarpment some distance away. Rather taken aback, Harry followed in the same way.

"I didn't know you were a wizard!" He said as soon as he arrived.

"It is not customary, Potter," said Doom coldly, "for lesser mortals to speak to Doom before I address them. On this occasion, only, I will overlook your impertinence. But yes, I am a wizard, a half-blood; my father chose his own bride, as is the right of the Kings of Latveria, and she was a witch. I attended Durmstrang Academy as a boy, as well as continuing my muggle education.

"Now, listen well. In due course, when I have brought order to the muggle world, I will turn my attention to the wizarding world. Those foolish enough to oppose me will perish, naturally. Those wise enough to pledge themselves to me, and to serve me in my inevitable triumph, will receive honour and rewards. This is the choice you will face, Harry Potter. You are a man of power and courage, it would be a pity if I had to destroy you. Such a man should not be wasted. Since I will not have time to govern every part of the world personally, you would make a suitable Regent, to rule British wizards n my name. Consider this well."

Harry grinned. "You sound like Voldemort. If he couldn't take over my world, what makes you think you could?"

Doom snorted contemptuously. "Tom Riddle was a fool! A babbling, frothing psychopath. He came here to offer me an alliance! I would have slain him except that his antics afforded me too much amusement. He sought nothing but his own glory and power!"

"Which you don't?" Harry's voice was icy.

Doom shook his head and spoke quietly, reasonably. "I see a need, Harry, and work to fill it. Humans are weak creatures, and contradictory. On the one hand, they demand order, plenty, and peace. Yet at the same time, they shout for their cherished 'freedoms', the right to do, say and think as they please. They fail to realise or accept that these demands are incompatible. If they desire work, comfort, a crime-free and peaceful society, then they must surrender freedom. If they desire freedom, they must accept the chaos it brings with it. In Latveria, there is no unemployment, no crime, no social injustice, no racism or intolerance, all are equal. To achieve this, all that is required is absolute loyalty and obedience to the will of a single man, myself. They do, speak and think as I command, and in return, live prosperous, happy lives.

"You and I are superior men, Harry Potter. We see the larger picture, the truths behind the words, the real nature of humanity, their real needs. You would serve me well, and in doing so, serve your people, who I believe you love as I do mine!

"But this is a question for the future, and for now I wish you only to consider the matter. But if you wish to truly understand who and what you are, I recommend you read the works of the muggle philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche.

"You and your allies must leave here now, but you yourself, Harry Potter, are welcome to return to Latveria at any time. If you should wish to speak with me, I grant you Right of Audience.

"Farewell, and think upon what I have said!"

_Interlude: StormGuard Prison, the far future._

River Song spoke to the apparition in her cell with some asperity.

"You could have waited until I'd dressed! I just got out of the shower!"

"Your clothing, or lack of it, makes no difference to me." Replied Ood Sigma.

River made a moue of mock disappointment, then carried on drying her hair.

"So, what have you come to tell me?"

"The Dalek Black Leader has taken the data."

River surfaced from the towel.

"Forward or backward?"

"Forward. We suspect that they had been in communication with it."

River smiled. "_They_ can make use of it. _He_ couldn't have. Did the Potter boy survive?"

"He did. He is exceptionally strong-willed."

"He is," River smiled impishly, "and also married, unfortunately. So it worked, then?"

"Thus far," Ood Sigma's expression and tone did not change, but there was a note of warning when it said, "The final outcome remains uncertain."

"It always does," River said, "That's what makes it fun!"

_Grimmauld Place: May 28th 2011._

The League had left their aircraft at Heathrow, been debriefed at the Museum, and come back to Grimmauld Place in a taxi, since the muggles didn't know how to Floo. It had been a long flight and a longer debrief, so it was about nine in the evening when Harry ushered his friends to the front door under a Disillusionment Charm.

So of course the first thing that happened was that the portrait of Sirius mother began to kick off. "Muggles in my house!" She shrieked. "Demons in my home! Shame, pollution, disgrace! What has become of the proud House of Black?"

"Sorry," Harry apologised. "The old bat's more than a bit ga-ga, I'm afraid!"

"Why not get rid of it?" asked Dante, reaching for the portrait.

"You can't take it..." Harry began. Then there was a grinding sound, a rumble, a couple of crashes, and a good deal of dust in the air.

"Of course," said Harry after a moment, "it never occurred to me to take the wall with it!"

Dante, holding several square feet of brick wall with the screaming portrait still attached to it, said "Where should I put this?"

"If Master Dante will come with Kreacher" said the old House-Elf, who had appeared from nowhere, "There is a place in the cellars where Kreacher's old mistress will be quite comfortable!"

As the two of them left, Tony said in a voice of great uneasiness, "Harry, is that a supporting wall?"

"Oh, bloody Hell!" said Harry, "_Reparo_!"

"Nice," Ziva remarked, "you even managed to match the wallpaper!"

"It's either that or a week's GBH of the earhole from She Who Must Be Obeyed!" Harry told her.

They adjourned to the living room, where Dante joined them and Kreacher brought tea and coffee. No sooner had they settled, than a green flame flared in the grate, and Ginny bounced into the room like a fire-sprite, flinging herself into Harry's arms and kissing him for a long time before leaning back and eyeing him quizzically.

"Harry," she asked, "why have you got plaster and brick dust in your hair?"

"It gives me total control without being greasy." Harry told her. "What are you doing home and where are the kids?"

"I got an Owl from Kingsley saying you were back safe and sound." Ginny explained. "So I thought I'd pop back to keep an eye on you before you found any more trouble to get into!

"I've left the sprogs with Mum and Dad, so they can spoil them a bit more than I'd allow for a day or so. Between playing in the garden and too many sweeties they'll come home black as the Ace of Spades and on a sugar high but no worse than that!

"Now, are you going to introduce me to our guests?"

Dinner was a convivial meal. Kreacher had somehow managed to produce roast beef with all the trimmings, followed by an apple crumble and cheese and biscuits. Ginny was astute enough not to ask about the events of the last few days, but nonetheless, she and Ziva seemed to find a great deal to talk about. Harry wondered about that, given that Ginny was a married woman and Ziva a single girl, but then realised that his wife had never been a very _girly _girl (he'd never really understood fluffy females, which was why he'd mishandled Cho Chang so badly) and the NCIS agent was practically the definition of 'tomboy'.

As to the men, they fell into the comfortable masculine habit of swapping tall tales. Not that there was a lot of competition, given that the Doctor and Duncan between them had over a millennium's worth of anecdotes.

The following day was one of disgracefully late rising and good deal of what Ginny termed 'dossing about'. She and Ziva continued to talk nineteen to the dozen, of course, though what exactly about, none of the men had a clue, or cared to speculate. Since most of it took place in the kitchen anyway, it was easy to keep clear. Dante and Tony ensconced themselves in the sitting room, taking a sofa each and helping themselves to some of the racier titles from Harry's selection of muggle books. As long as Kreacher kept them supplied with coffee and snacks, they had no need to move. Daniel was more interested in the older volumes to be found in the Black family library, which Harry had inherited with the house. Duncan meanwhile, explored the furniture, ornaments and so forth, occasionally exclaiming with pleasure as he discovered a rare specimen.

Harry and the Doctor had more important things to discuss. Firstly, there was the matter of the Keys.

"They're not all that magical in themselves." Harry allowed. "But the fact that they were made by, and belonged to, the Founders means that people will be after them, if only for the symbolism. Imagine the effect of some hard-line Pureblood supremacist brandishing the 'Key of Slytherin' at rallies and meetings. The thing may not have any power of its own, but that doesn't mean it can't be used to inspire mischief!

"Obviously, you'll keep that sonic thingy of yours, and it wouldn't mean much to a wizard anyway, but what about the others?"

"Well, I promised Helga I'd take hers back," the Doctor said. "And to be honest, I can't see anyone wanting to start a revolution in the name of Helga Hufflepuff! Cookery classes, perhaps, but not a revolt! What about your Ministry archives?"

Harry grimaced. "The problem is that Ministers change. Kingsley is a decent man, but someone like Cornelius Fudge or Pius Thicknesse? Wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could throw 'em!

"Now, Daniel tells me that Slytherin's Key is actually a Gou'a'ould artefact. A homing device of some kind. His guess – and knowing Daniel, it's probably the right one – is that Slytherin found it on a trip to Egypt before you met him, and enchanted it to be the Key. He must have taken it back years later, and that was what led him to the Temple where that symbiote was imprisoned.

"But given that it's not native to Earth, I'm inclined to hand it over to Luna Lovegood at Torchwood Four. They can put it in storage and nobody need hear about it ever again."

"Makes sense." the Doctor agreed. "Now, Rowena's scroll could quite happily get lost in a library somewhere, but where?"

"Hogwarts." Harry said firmly. "In the Restricted Section. Almost nobody goes there except Ravenclaws and Hermione, because it's sort of weird in there. Y'know, people say they've seen an orang-utan looking through the shelves sometimes?"

"Good idea," the Doctor told him, "and don't worry about the orang-utan. I know him and he's a good sort, as long as you don't use the 'm' word."

Harry left that one alone, on the grounds that the answer might well turn his brain inside out. He was getting to know the Doctor well enough to understand when not to pursue a comment!

"That leaves Godric's Key." He said. "Any thoughts?"

"Only one." The Doctor said gravely. "He'd want you to have it, Harry. I can't tell you anything, because I don't know anything definite. But I get the feeling that Godric's Key is more than just a way into the Vault. The only thing I can tell you for certain is that it has the same Dwarf signature that was on Godric's Sword at Hogwarts.

"Godric was an Immortal, Harry, and he'd probably followed your entire life, at a distance. He was particularly pleased that it was you who came to his Hold and passed his test. He wanted you to have that Key, Harry, and to use it. What for I don't know, but I think you'll find out, soon enough."

"Fair enough." Harry replied. "But that brings me to the other thing I wanted to discuss. What can you tell me about Dwarfs, Orcs, Goblins and the rest?"

"How long have you got?" The Doctor asked.

The day of rest had done them all good, but now it was time to separate and go back to their lives. They stood outside the TARDIS in the ballroom and looked at each other.

"By rights," Harry announced, "I should Obliviate the lot of you, you know. You've all seen more than you should of the wizard world. On the other hand, I don't know if the spell would work on Dante, and I know it wouldn't on the Doctor! All of you are used to keeping secrets, so I'll trust you, and to Hell with wizard law!

"But there is one condition – keep in touch, OK?"

They all promised, except the Doctor, who pointed out again that it was a big Universe and he couldn't promise anything.

After that, there was good deal of hand-shaking and hugging, then the Doctor went into the TARDIS, which dematerialised with the usual whoosh and roar. The others trooped out one by one to go their separate ways. Finally, Harry and Ginny were alone.

"What now?" Harry asked his wife.

She came close and put her arms round his neck.

"Bearing in mind the kids won't be back till tomorrow," she said softly, "why have we still got our clothes on?"

_Quantico Marine Base, Virginia: October 13th 2011_

"What've we got, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Dr Mallard looked up from the body. "One Marine Captain, decapitated and partially burned, Jethro. There are numerous wounds on the body, consistent with a sword duel, but I can't say more until we get him to the lab."

"DiNozzo?"

Tony held up a long, formidable-looking blade. "This was found next to the body, Boss. Looks like an old Civil War Cavalry saber. Blood on it. I'll send it to Abby."

"I'll need to see if it matches the wounds, Tony." Ducky reminded him.

"What've you got, McGee?" Gibbs demanded as Tim came in hurriedly.

"Nothing, Boss," McGee looked both puzzled and frustrated. "Everything on the surveillance system for last night was blanked out. Some kind of massive EM pulse. I'll check the remote backup, we might get lucky."

Ziva seemed lost in thought, starting when Gibbs addressed her. "You know something, Ziva?"

She shook her head. "No, but I do know a man who might."

_SGC, Cheyenne Mountain: January 4th 2012_

Teal'c and Ronon were the last two through the StarGate, covering the rear. The team they had led was decimated, less than half had survived, and all the others were wounded.

"What the Hell happened?" General Landry demanded. "This was a routine recon mission."

"We were ambushed." Teal'c said in his usual level tone. "By creatures I have never encountered before."

"Demons," said Ronon grimly, "they were demons. We had legends of them back home. Even the Wraith were scared of them."

They called Daniel, Mitchell and Shepard in to view the mission videos. The creatures seemed to come in several types and sizes, took a lot of killing, and did incredible amounts of damage. Daniel recognised them from books he'd studied.

"Options?" Landry asked when they'd all seen enough.

"I think," Daniel ventured, "we need to call in some specialised help."

_Imperial Strike Cruiser 'Fury of Descent': 852.M41_

"Captain Sicarius!" The Imperial Navy Officer was at once respectful and urgent in tone. "There is a message from the Adeptus Terra."

Sicarius looked down at the man and spoke kindly – it was not the way of the Ultramarines to disrespect or terrorise Imperial citizens, whatever their status.

"Speak, Commander, and take your time."

"My Lord, the Forge-World of Samran is under Xenos invasion. It would already have been overrun had an Ethereal of the Tau not arrived there to bring warning. The Tau Fire-Warriors are currently reinforcing the Imperial Guard there, but they are fighting a losing battle.

"My Lord, the Forge-World is of an Absolute strategic value, and a fleet is being assembled under Commander Dante and his Blood Angels. But there is little time, and we are closer. You and your Company are ordered to reinforce the defences of Samran. We have already changed course."

"Thank you, Commander." Sicarius said gravely. "What manner of Xenos are these?"

"A type not encountered before, my Lord. There is an additional order. Upon reaching Samran you are to rendezvous with, and provide all assistance to, an individual identified as 'The Doctor'."

**Epilogue**

Black Leader was incapable of awe, but nonetheless, the New Paradigm revealed its inferiority. The white Supreme stood nearby, watching the Progenitor Unit work on the information Black Leader had downloaded to it. Finally, the Chamber opened, and a new Dalek glided out. This one resembled the other New Paradigm Daleks, except that its shell was coloured a deep green.

"I-den-ti-fy!" Commanded the Supreme.

"I am the Wiz-ard!" replied the green Dalek.

The Supreme turned to Black Leader. "You are in-fer-i-or, but you have served the Em-pire well. Are you rea-dy for your last ser-vice?"

"I am rea-dy." Black Leader declared.

The Supreme turned to the Wizard. "Pro-ceed!"

The Wizard faced Black Leader. It weapon was unlike that of other Daleks, being a wooden rod encased in silver Dalekanium. Now it aimed and said "_Re-duc-to_!" Black Leader's armour flew apart, throwing the helpless mutant to the floor. The Wizard moved forward and aimed again. "_A-va-da Ked-av-ra_!"

There was a green flash, and it was done.

"The New Par-a-digm is com-plete!" Exulted the Supreme. "We have re-gained the mag-ic poss-essed by our an-cest-ors. Now there will be no de-feat!" It turned to the Wizard. "Be-gin your work."

"I o-bey." The Wizard glided away to the chamber prepared for it. A chamber filled with ancient scroll and books, full of knowledge and power from a thousand worlds, knowledge and power which no Dalek until now had been able to comprehend or use.

But the Wizard did not begin its task immediately. It moved toward a large, ornate mirror that stood at the end of the chamber. The mirror had been taken from the ruins of a castle in a past or future world from another time-stream. It was called the Mirror of Erised, and was supposed to show strange things to those who looked in it. But no Dalek had ever seen anything but itself in the reflective surface.

The Wizard did not see itself. It saw a small, skinny human male, with untidy black hair, vivid green eyes, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. As the Wizard watched, the boy solemnly winked, and put a finger to his lips.


End file.
